


The Woman Who Counted

by Jayie_The_Hufflepuff



Series: The Molly Hooper Companion Chronicles [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character swap, Crossover, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Molly Hooper as a companion, Season Three Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:17:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 139,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayie_The_Hufflepuff/pseuds/Jayie_The_Hufflepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would have happened if the plasmavore had gone to St. Bart's hospital instead of Royal Hope Hospital? Rewrite of Doctor Who Season Three with Molly Hooper in Martha Jones's place as companion. Pre-Great Game for Sherlock, will include Sherlock episodes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hooper and Smith: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ordinary life of Molly Hooper is changed forever when she meets the mysterious John Smith.

     The plasmavore needed to hide. She knew the Padrivolian Royal Family had sent the Judoon and possibly others after her. She was on Earth now, but the Judoon were stubborn. They would follow her even here. So she needed somewhere to hide and blend in. But where?

      _Why, somewhere with blood, of course._

     Out on the street, so many humans were passing by. Such a mindless, herd-like species. Always moving in such big, noisy crowds. Dull and clueless as cattle. The whole planet was infested with them, which made it the perfect place to hide.

     She walked up to one of them and gave him a pleasant, clueless smile. "Excuse me, I'm new in town, and I've been feeling a bit out of sorts. Could you tell me where to find the nearest hospital?"

     The man looked thoughtful for a second. "Royal Hope Hospital's maybe a ten minute walk from here, but if you hurry you can catch the bus to St. Bart's."

     Two options. A small choice that would change everything.

     The plasmavore smiled agreeably. "Thank you, young man." Humans were so easy to fool.

     "No problem, ma'am." With that, the man hurried off to wherever his dull little life needed him to be, leaving the plasmavore to her choice. Such a simple choice. Deceptively simple.

      _So,_  she thought to herself as she started off,  _he said there's a bus to St. Bart's?_

**SCENEBREAK**

     Molly Hooper was already running late when she got a text from Sherlock. Holding back a sigh, she shifted her papers so she was cradling them with one arm as she took out her phone. The pathologist was outside St. Bart's, hanging around outside because there was no phone reception inside, painfully conscious of how late she already was.

     The message skipped any form of greeting, fitting the detective's usual bluntness. " _I need to see Henry Kerr's body tonight. - SH_ "

     The pathologist hesitated. That body was going to be tough to get, especially since she'd already gotten in trouble for helping Sherlock only the week before. Struggling to keep her papers balanced, she hastily texted back, " _Not sure if I can get that._ "

     The reply was almost instantaneous, as though Sherlock been ready for her to protest. Although, Molly mused, it wouldn't surprise her if he was simply that fast at typing. " _Kerr couldn't have committed suicide. The rope he was hung with isn't what killed him. There wasn't enough strain on the neck when I saw it, meaning he wasn't alive and struggling when he was hung, meaning someone set it up to look like a suicide, therefore it wasn't. I need to check if I'm right about what really killed him. - SH_ "

     Even over text message, Sherlock's explanation left her slightly overwhelmed. Recognizing defeat, she sent him. " _Sure._ " She'd have to ask a few favors to get the body, but she'd always been willing to go to far too much effort for the detective.

     As she started to text her boyfriend Jim letting him know she'd be busy that night, someone knocked hard into her shoulder, sending the phone and all her papers clattering to the ground. Molly bit back a groan as she crouched down to collect her scattered things.

     She looked up briefly to see what had bumped into her, but all she saw was a man dressed in all black leather and a biker's helmet heading into the hospital, not so much as looking back at her. With a sigh, she gathered the rest of her things and stood, hurrying towards the hospital herself. The metal doors gave her a slight shock as she pushed them open, but she didn't think much of it.

     Just another day in her life.

**SCENEBREAK**

     After being briefly chewed out by her boss for being late, Molly went down to the morgue to get to work. It didn't take long for her to slip easily into the monotony of her work. She was the only one in so far, so the room was completely silent. Not that she would normally be involved in conversation with her colleagues. The metal clipboard she grabbed shocked her, which reminded her of the incident at the door. It just wasn't her day, she supposed.

     A few hours later, the silence was broken by soft footfalls from the hallway. Molly turned to look at the door, expecting it to be one of her colleagues, but when the door was opened it wasn't anyone she recognized. The man was tall and skinny, with messy brown hair and a long brown coat not unlike Sherlock's. He blinked in surprise when he saw Molly in the room, then broke out in a bright grin. "Oh, hello! Didn't know there was anyone down here."

     Molly was surprised by the man's cheerfulness. "Um, hi," she finally managed.

     The man pulled a leather wallet from his coat and held it up for her to see. Credentials for a building inspector were on the paper inside. "John Smith," the man introduced himself briefly. "I'm just checking stuff around here, don't mind me."

     "Oh." Molly felt a little awkward with the man grinning at her. "Er, alright." She turned quickly back to her work, trying to ignore the man as he pulled out a thin metal tool and starting scanning around the room.

     This went on for a few minutes. The man was babbling to himself in some sort of ongoing monologue. Molly tried to listen to what he was saying, but all she caught was some nonsense about plasma coils and electricity. She couldn't help but be interested in the man, though she didn't let it show. There was just something different about him. Maybe it was his slightly eccentric outfit, or his unusual cheerfulness, but whatever it was, it made her a bit bolder in trying to listen to him rather than minding her own business. She'd never heard of the things he was talking about, but the way he was going on, he was either mad or a genius. Somehow, she felt he might be both. And Molly Hooper had had plenty of experience with a man who was both.

     Without warning, the ground under Molly's feet began to shake violently. The pathologist let out a yelp of surprise as she was thrown to the ground. She couldn't see Smith from where she was, but she could see some tools clattering to the ground beside her and could feel the way the ground rocked under her.

     Finally, the shaking subsided. Molly waited before trying to move again, fearing aftershocks, but the ground seemed pretty stable now.

     "You alright?"

     Molly turned over to see Smith still on his feet, still hanging on to the counter that had probably kept him upright. The man was looking her with an expression that somehow mixed concern with excitement.

     The pathologist got to her feet, wincing slightly. "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, feeling a little foolish. "What was that, an earthquake?"

     "Dunno." The concern was gone now, replaced by a grin as cheerful as before, except now it was tinged with excitement and anticipation. He gave Molly a conspiratorial grin as he suggested, "Let's find out!" With that, he turned and headed out through the doors.

     Without quite knowing why, Molly followed him.

**SCENEBREAK**

     She followed Smith back upstairs, only to find the hospital in uproar. Patients were crowded around the windows, either staring outside in shock or sobbing onto each other's shoulders. A few of the staff were trying to calm the crowd, but they looked as confused and scared as everyone else. Molly was baffled.  _What happened?_

     Smith didn't seem too surprised. He bounded over to a less crowded window, pausing at what he saw. There was a staff worker already there; she turned to Smith and told him shakily, "I-it was raining, it was raining up, and then there was this white light. Oh god, what happened?!"

     Molly followed more hesitantly, but when she could see out the window, she froze in shock, letting out a small, "Oh."

     Through the window, they could see a great expanse of dusty gray rock, with a starry night sky in the backdrop. But what really completed the picture was, instead of the moon shining in the sky before them, it was the Earth, hanging in the sky in all its glory, and so very, very far away.

     The staff worker, a nurse Molly didn't know all that well, had just turned to look out the window. She drew in a sharp breath at the sight. "No. No way. It can't be."

     Molly found she couldn't tear her eyes away from the little blue-and-green planet, surrounded by stars. She'd never realized how beautiful Earth was before. Somehow, she wasn't afraid as she breathed, "We're on the moon."

     She'd forgotten all about Smith until he spoke again. "Well," was all he said, "not quite what I was expecting."

     The man didn't seem scared or awed, or even surprised. He still had that light of excitement in his eyes, but he was far more collected than anyone else. Molly remembered his strange behavior from earlier and asked with slight accusation in her tone, "Did you know this was going to happen?"

     Rather than looking affronted, Smith turned to her with a look of amusement. "Why do you think I knew?" he asked curiously.

     It didn't escape her notice that he hasn't answered the question, so she was cautious as she explained, "You don't seem that surprised, and I don't remember hearing about any building inspections."

     He seemed oddly approving, grinning in delight. "Oh, that's clever, very clever." Molly was completely baffled at this point, but could do little but stare at him in silent confusion. His gaze grew thoughtful. "What was your name?"

     Molly had to scramble to stifle her confusion before she could give an intelligent response. "D...Dr. Molly Hooper," she finally managed.

     "Well then Molly Hooper," he said with a conspiratorial grin, "fancy a trip outside?"

     The nurse looked shocked. "But there's no air outside!" She gasped.

     Smith shook his head briefly. "This building's not airtight, but we're all fine and dandy. So clearly there's air coming from somewhere." He ignored her and turned back to Molly. "Coming?"

     The pathologist hesitated a moment, considering. Smith still hadn't explained who he really was or what his part was in all this, but he seemed friendly enough. More than that, he reminded her of Sherlock. They both had that sort of whirlwind personality, a brilliance that left people's heads spinning. If he was truly anything like Sherlock, then he was probably their best shot at getting out of here. She nodded. "Alright."

     Smith gave her an evaluating glance. "We could die," he warned her.

     She shrugged. An entire hospital of people had been transported to the moon; her own death was the leash of her worries. "Like you said, there has to be air coming from somewhere."

     He gave her that approving grin again. "Brilliant! Come on then."

**SCENEBREAK**

     Molly directed him to a balcony nearby, and the two soon reached it. They both hesitated slightly, sharing a quick glance, before pushing the doors open and stepping outside.

     The first thing that registered for Molly was that they were still breathing. After that, she was struck by the beauty of what she was seeing. The night sky wasn't so clear anywhere on earth as it was here, and the Earth seemed almost ethereal in front of them. She crossed slowly over to the railing, looking out in wonder at the sight before them.

     Smith was giving her that evaluating look again. "You okay?"

     Molly nodded. "Yeah. It's... it's beautiful, isn't it?"

     He looked amused. "Yeah? You think?" The man turned to look back at the moon's surface. "Well, we're still breathing at any rate. Let's see. It's got to be some kind of force field." With that baffling remark, he leaned down to pick up a rock. He straightened, then lobbed it out off the balcony. Mid-air, it smacked into a what looked like a strange blue surge of energy, then dropped to the ground. Smith looked pleased at the result. "Ah, see, I was right. Force field."

     The pathologist turned back to the man, remembering their earlier conversation. "You never said. Did you know this was going to happen, Mr. Smith?"

     Smith shook his head. "Nah, I didn't know what exactly was going to happen, but I thought something might. Why is there always trouble whenever I show up?" He looked a little sheepish as he added, "Oh, and my name's not Smith, I kind of lied."

     Molly wasn't honestly that surprised. John Smith was basically the staple fake name, and he'd been mysterious from the start. "What is it then?"

     "The Doctor," he replied absentmindedly as he stared out at the moon's surface, leaning on the railing.

     "... just 'the Doctor?'" Molly asked tentatively.

     "Yep."

     Molly was starting to doubt her initial impression of his brilliance rather than madness. "Alright." After a few moments of awkward silence, she asked, "Any idea why we've been transported to the moon?"

     Rather than answering, the Doctor just looked at her thoughtfully. "What do you think?"

     "What, you're asking me?" Molly asked in surprise. When the Doctor just waited for her to answer, she grew flustered. "Er, I'm sure you know more about it than I do," she laughed nervously.

     The Doctor shrugged. " _Wellll_ , yeah, maybe, but I want to know what  _you_  think."

     Molly flushed with embarrassment, but the Doctor's earnest expression told her he wasn't taking no for an answer. Reluctantly, she finally mumbled, "Er... aliens?"

     The Doctor grinned encouragingly. "Good, good! Why aliens?"

     Feeling more embarrassed than ever, Molly explained, "Well, I mean, no one on Earth has this kind of technology. We can't transport people from one place to another, let alone from Earth to the moon."

     "There could be and you might just not know about it," the Doctor suggested.

     The pathologist shrugged uncomfortably. "Maybe, but why transport a hospital to the moon? I mean, what's the point? We're not special or important. And they took us from the middle of London, so whoever did this isn't keen on keeping secrets."

     The Doctor's grin grew even wider. "Oh, that is brilliant! I like you, Molly Hooper." The pathologist blushed, but the Doctor didn’t seem to notice, as he was off babbling again. “Aliens is right, not quite sure who it is yet though. They used an H20 scoop to move the hospital – that rain that nurse was talking about, that was an H20 scoop. I only realized what was going on because I started getting readings of plasma coils around the hospital."

     "You mentioned those before," Molly recalled. "You said something about a lot of electricity?"

     The man gave her an approving look. "Oh good, you were listening. Yeah, there was a lot of electricity building up all day, preparing for the transport, and the metal in the building was trying to shed the excess power."

     "I got shocked a few times earlier," the pathologist remembered.

     "That was the plasma coil," the Doctor told her.

     "But why? Why beam a hospital up to the moon?” She tried to keep the desperation out of her voice, but the truth was she was scared. Now that she was away from the other people in the hospital that she had to keep a brave face on for, she was starting to feel real fear. There were so many people in that hospital, so many young and sick. What was going to happen to them?

     “Not sure,” the Doctor admitted. “But we might want to figure it out soon.”

     “Why?” Molly asked nervously.

     “Well,” the Doctor said as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “if we’re trapped in a force field, then this is all the air we’ve got.”

     Cold fear gripped at Molly’s heart. “We’re going to run out of air,” she realized. “All those people in there… they’re going to suffocate.” She turned desperately to the Doctor. “Can you stop it?”

     Before the man in question could answer, the deep  _whirr_  of engines sounded overhead. Three huge spaceships flew in overhead, coming to rest on the rocky surface several yards from the hospital. “Heads up,” the Doctor said with interest, “We’ve got a welcoming committee.”

     Platforms descended from the spaceships, and creatures dressed all in black with big helmets came marching out in lines. Molly drew in a sharp breath. “Aliens,” she breathed. “Real aliens.” She had only seen the cybermen from afar last time, and she hadn’t been in London when plastic came to life, so this was her first time really seeing an alien. She couldn’t help but feel a little excited. Aliens were actually real!

     For once, the Doctor didn’t seem to share her excitement. He frowned at the sight of the marching aliens, brow furrowing worriedly. “Judoon,” he said in a low tone.

     Molly shot him a confused look. “What?”

     The Doctor leaned forward a little, frowning thoughtfully. “Those creatures, they’re called the Judoon. They’re not so bad compared to some, but I can’t think of too many good reasons they could be here.” A few moments passed, then he shook his head, shedding his serious mood. He shot her a grin as he suggested, “Well, miss Molly Hooper, fancy getting a closer look?”

**SCENEBREAK**

     Inside the hospital, Molly and the Doctor watched from afar as the rhino-like Judoon scanned and marked each human. The Doctor, however, seemed somewhat distracted. “Ooo, you’ve got a little shop, I love a little shop,” he remarked delightedly.

     Molly couldn’t take her gaze off the Judoon. “They haven’t hurt anyone,” she observed quietly. “What are they doing? It almost looks like they’re counting us.”

     “Close,” the Doctor said. “They’re cataloging. Making sure you’re all human.”

     “Cataloging?” Molly asked in alarm. “Like livestock?”

     “More like suspects,” he corrected. “Judoon are basically police-for-hire. Well, more like thugs. Looks like they’re specifically after a suspect that’s non-human, which is very bad news for me.”

     The pathologist looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

     He just gave her a meaningful look. Molly drew in a shocked breath. “What, you’re saying you’re…?”

     “Yeah,” was all he said.

     Molly looked the man over, considering. He certainly looked human, but there had been something a little off about him from the start. He’d already proven he knew more about what was going on than anyone else, and he seemed to have seen it coming. Molly had just met the man, but for some reason she already trusted him. Perhaps it was the way he reminded her of Sherlock, or maybe it was just his friendly, sincere air. But she decided to believe him. “Alright,” she said.

     He gave a pleased smile. “Good.” Without warning, he got up and headed over to somewhere else by the glass railing, trying to get a better look at the Judoon. Molly hurried quietly after him. “They’re after a suspect that’s non-human that managed to hide among the patients. Now it makes sense. They had to bring the hospital up here, they don’t have any jurisdiction over Earth, but the moon’s neutral ground.”

     Molly remembered what he's said earlier about him being in danger. "Hang on. Just 'cause they're looking for a non-human doesn't mean you're in danger, right? Shouldn't they know what their suspect looks like?"

     The Doctor shook his head. "Nah, could be a shapeshifter."

     "Alright. So, should you hide while we let them find their suspect, or...?"

     "No, can't do that. If they decide the hospital was harboring a fugitive, they'll kill everyone inside." He stood. "We need to find them first. You coming?"

     Molly nodded immediately. "I'll help however I can," she promised. Somehow, she knew this man, this alien, was smart enough to get them all out of this alive, and she wasn't sitting back when she could be doing something to help.

     The alien grinned at her, full of excitement once again. "Alright then. Allons-y!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, I know I shouldn't be starting another fic (again.) But I've decided to put both of my Warriors fics on hold until I know whether Bramblestar's Storm screws up my story or not, and I'm almost done with both TtoSM (sorta not reall) and TQBtS.
> 
> As you've probably guessed, this is a rewrite of Season Three of Doctor Who with Molly Hooper from Sherlock inserted in Martha Jones's place. This came from me both loving the idea of Molly being the Doctor's companion and my realization that Martha and Molly are both doctors of a sort and therefore Molly could be introduced the same way as Martha.
> 
> The episode is roughly the same, but as you can see from the dialogue, some things are changed. That'll be how it works mostly, as Molly is a very different person from Martha. I will also be including the Sherlock cast, and include some of the episodes.
> 
> Expect more soon.


	2. Hooper and Smith: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Molly try to find out who the Judoon are after.

     Molly pushed open the doors of the office the Doctor had set up shop in. "The Judoon've reached the third floor and the basement," she told him. The alien himself was on one of the computers, scanning it with the metal tool from earlier. Up close, it looked like a large metal pen with a blue end that lit up. "What is that?" she asked curiously.  
   
     "Sonic screwdriver," the Doctor answered distractedly. He was focused on the computer with a furrowed brow, the sonic screwdriver _whirring_ briskly.  
   
     His explanation left her no less confused, but she just replied with a small, "Alright." After a few moments of silence, she remarked quietly, "Good thing my boyfriend's not here. He's home sick. He's a great guy and everything, but I don't know if he can handle this." She gave a slightly nervous laugh. "I'm not handling it very well myself."  
   
     The Doctor looked over his shoulder at her, giving her a quick smile. "Nah, you're doing fine. One guy I saved ended up clinging to his girlfriend's legs and trembling." He seemed amused at the memory, but then his expression darkened into one of pain. Molly was surprised at the depth of it, even if the expression was gone as soon as it came. She'd have to find out about that later.  
   
     The Doctor turned back to the computer with a frustrated growl. "What's wrong with this computer?!" He gave it a frustrated smack. "The Judoon must have locked it down." The alien's gaze became unfocused as he mused, "Judoon platoon upon the moon."  
   
     Molly shot a quick glance at the files he had open on the computer. "Are you trying to find the Judoon's suspect on there?"  
   
     The alien nodded distractedly. “It'd be someone who's probably been admitted recently. Any alien pretending to be human'll have odd symptoms that never disappeared.” He gave a small grin. “You should've seen the doctor when she realized I had two hearts.”  
   
     “Two hearts?” Molly asked in surprise.  
   
     “Uh-huh.”  
   
     She took a moment to swallow that. “I guess that'd make for an interesting autopsy,” she mused. Her eyes widened in horror as she realized what she'd said. “Oh god, I'm sorry! That's not what I meant!”  
   
     The Doctor just chuckled. “Nah, it's alright.” Suddenly, he jerked back from the computer with a frustrated, “Oh!” He glared slightly manically at the screen, which was now several shades of red with strange symbols displayed on it. “Do you see? They're thick! Judoon are thick! They are completely thick! They've wiped the records!” He ran a distracted hand through his wild hair. “Oh, that's clever.”  
   
     “You're looking for patients with unusual symptoms, right?” Molly inquired. When he gave a distracted nod, she started towards the door. “I'll go ask my boss if he's heard anything. If not I'll check with the people at the front desk. There's got to be records on paper somewhere.” With that, she left the alien to his manic search.  
   
 **SCENEBREAK**  
   
     Molly hurried through the halls of the hospital, avoiding panicking staff and terrified patients as she ran towards her boss's office. People seemed to have pegged on to the idea that the air was limited; a patient grabbed at Molly's lab coat as she passed, staring up at her with wide, terrified eyes. “Help us!” she begged.  
   
     Molly gently disentangled herself from the woman's grasp. “I...I'm sorry, I'm trying,” she stammered. She did her best to ignore the woman's desperate stare as she hurried away.  _It'll be alright,_  she told herself,  _the Doctor knows what he's doing. We'll all get out of this alive. We have to._  
   
     She finally reached her boss's office. As she pushed open the doors, she called out, “Mr. Griffiths, I need to ask you...”  
   
     The pathologist trailed off as she took in the scene in front of her. The man in leather and a helmet who'd bumped into her earlier was standing guard over two slouched figures. Mr. Griffiths was lying on the ground, obviously dead and completely white in the face. An old woman she recognized as a patient named Mrs. Finnigan was bent over him, sucking from his neck with a little bendy straw. Molly froze for a moment, both in shock from the absurdity of the situation. When Mrs. Finnigan looked up at her, however, she bolted for the door. She could hear the old woman order, “Kill her!” behind her, but kept going.  
   
     As she turned from looking over her shoulder, she ran straight into the Doctor. After the disentangled themselves, he told her in an urgent tone, "I fixed the back-up on the computer.”  
   
     “I found her,” Molly cut him off.  
   
     The Doctor's brow furrowed. “You did what?”  
   
     Just then, the man in leather kicked through the door behind them. The Doctor looked at him with wide eyes, then quickly grabbed Molly's hand in his own. “Run!”  
   
     The two took off hand in hand, racing through the hospital as the man in leather sped after them. As she ran for her life, Molly could have almost laughed at how absurd it all was. She was running for her life, next to an alien with two hearts that looked human, from a bloodsucking alien that looked human, in the hospital she worked at, which was on the moon, while aliens that looked like rhinos were hunting them down. She wondered briefly if she was going mad; she'd once thought that Sherlock's adventures sounded crazy and unreal, but in one afternoon she'd managed to top all of them.  
   
     They started down the stairwell, but when they saw a troop of Judoon heading up the stairs in front of them, they turned and headed out to the hallways. They ran for a while, the man in leather easily keeping pace, until suddenly the Doctor yanked open the door to one of the rooms, pushing Molly inside before slipping in himself.  
   
     He closed the door behind them, pointing his sonic screwdriver at it for a moment, before turning and leading Molly to an x-ray device. “When I say now,” he told her urgently, “press the button.”  
   
     Molly looked at the mass of buttons and switches on the counter with confusion. “Which one?”  
   
     “Figure it out!” The Doctor told her unhelpfully. She set off towards the control panel as he fiddled with the device. Looking around wildly, she finally spotted a black binder labeled "Operator's Manuel." She snatched it up and flipped wildly through it, fully conscious of the harsh pounding at the door.  
   
     She'd only read a few lines when the door was kicked straight in. The man in leather advanced toward the Doctor, who pointed the x-ray device at him. “Now!” he shouted at Molly.

     Looking desperately at the console, she saw a big yellow button that stood out from the rest. She hesitated, but there was no other choice. Biting her lip, she slammed down the button, hoping desperately she’d gotten it right.

     A bright light emulated from the device. Molly shielded her eyes, but it subsided after a few moments. When she looked up again, the man in leather had crumpled to the ground while the Doctor was still standing. Molly froze, glancing at the button she’d just pushed. “What was that?”

     “Radiation,” the Doctor answered. He walked carefully up to the man in leather, giving him an experimental tap with his foot. When the man didn’t move, he gave a grim smile. “I increased it to 5000%. Killed him dead.”

     Molly paused. “You killed him?” she asked hesitantly.

     The Doctor finally looked up at the tone of her voice, giving a small, approving smile. “Well, it wasn’t even technically alive to begin with. It’s just a slab. Basic slave drone, you see. No brains or will of their own, just moving parts.” He leaned down over it, motioning Molly to do the same. “You see?” He knocked on the man’s chest, which gave an oddly muffled sound. “Solid leather all the way through. Someone’s got one hell of a fetish.

     Something clicked in Molly’s head as she looked at the Slab. “Hang on.” She looked from the x-ray device to the Doctor. “If that was radiation, didn’t you get hit with it too?”

     “Yeah, but it won’t kill me,” the Doctor said dismissively. “That’s just Roentgen radiation. We used to play with Roentgen bricks in the nursery. You should be fine, by the way, I’ve absorbed it all.” With that, he started shaking all over, like a dog trying to shake off water. Molly watched, baffled at the strange performance, as he explained, “I’ve just got to expel it now. Just gotta concentrate… I can shift it all to one part of my body…” He started hopping from foot to foot, finally settling for the left foot. “It’s in my left shoe!” The alien started shaking his foot. “Now I just need to – ow, ow, ow!” He hopped on his other foot as he held his left foot up, making his way over to a waste dispenser. Without warning he ripped off his left shoe and shoved it into the waste dispenser. “Ah, there. All better.” He looked up at her with a goofy grin which seemed slightly manic. “What do you think?”

     Molly just stared at him, rethinking her theory on him not being entirely insane. “Um…”

     Rather than getting offended, he just frowned thoughtfully. “You’re right,” he said, though Molly hadn’t really said much, “I look daft with one shoe.” With that baffling sentiment he took off his other shoe and chucked it in the bin. “There we go,” he said with a pleased grin. “Barefoot on the moon.”

     As he turned back to the x-ray device, she remembered what she’d started to tell him before. “Doctor, the alien, the one they're looking for, she’s this woman named Mrs. Finnigan.”

     The Doctor didn’t seem to have heard her. He had removed his sonic screwdriver from the x-ray device and was staring forlornly at its burnt shell. “Oh no, my sonic screwdriver!”

     Molly tried to get his attention again, “Er, Doctor?”

     “Burnt out my sonic screwdriver,” he said gloomily, still ignoring Molly. The pathologist fell silent, too nervous to interrupt him again as he bemoaned, “I love my sonic screwdriver.”

     After a few moments spent staring gloomily at the burnt-out screwdriver, he finally seemed to realize Molly had been trying to talk to him. “Sorry. You were saying?”

     Molly explained, “The alien they're after is a patient named Mrs. Finnigan. I remember helping check her in when one of the desk clerks needed to run their kid to the hospital during my lunch break.” She took a shaky breath. “I found her in Mr. Griffith’s office. She was… I think she was drinking his blood with a straw.”

     The Doctor frowned thoughtfully. “Odd time for a snack. She should be hiding… unless… no, I got it, she’s a plasmavore! She wasn’t drinking the blood, she was assimilating it!”

     When he turned back to Molly he seemed to notice her confusion. “Plasmavores are internal shape-changers. They can change their biology.”

     Molly realized what the Doctor was hinting at. “You mean, if she assimilated Mr. Griffith’s blood, the Judoon will read her as human?”

     “Exactly!” The Doctor headed for the door again. “Come on, Molly Hooper. We’ve got to find her before they do!”

**SCENEBREAK**

     The two hid behind a few water coolers, watching quietly as another slab walked past. “That’s the thing about slabs,” the Doctor said with a frown. “They always travel in pairs.”

     Molly remembered his earlier sadness, and how he seemed to be alone here. It reminded her of how Sherlock was before he’d met John. He’d been so many things; brilliant, incredible, amazing. But not happy. “What about you?” she asked tentatively.

     The Doctor looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

     Molly flushed at the personal turn this conversation has taken, but she was curious about the alien. “Are there any more of you? I mean, your species?”

     Pain flashed in the Doctor's eyes again, but he covered it up by gaping incredulously at the coroner. “Humans!” he finally scoffed. “Here we are, hiding from a blood-sucking alien, and you're asking personal questions.”

     “Sorry,” Molly apologized immediately. “I didn't mean - “

     The Doctor chuckled as they straightened and started off again. “Nah, it's fine, it's one of the things I love about you humans. You're always so curious.”

     As they turned into another hallway, they ran smack into a troop of Judoon. One of them scanned the Doctor before they could run for it; the device let out a rapid series of beeps. “Non-human,” the Judoon grunted.

     Molly turned to the Doctor with wide eyes. She'd chosen to believe him when he'd told her he was an alien, but having it confirmed still gave her a bit of a shock. He grabbed her hand. “And again!” Hand in hand, they took off down another hallway.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The two slowed as they reached the second floor. Patients and staff were sitting lined up against the walls, breathing hard, some with oxygen masks on. All of them had the black mark on their hands from the Judoon. “The Judoon already checked this floor,” the Doctor confirmed. “We'll be fine up here for now. Judoon are logical and just a bit thick. They won't recheck a floor they've already cleared.”

     Molly's gaze swept worriedly over the hunched-over people. “They're running out of air,” she whispered. “They're going to die soon.”

     The Doctor shook his head grimly. “Not if I can help it.” He turned back to Molly. “You okay?”  
     The pathologist was surprised at the question. “Me? Yeah, I'm fine,” she told him hastily. “What about you?”

     “Respiratory bypass system,” he explained dismissively. “I'll be fine longer than you lot.” He squared his shoulders. “We need to find that plasmavore. Where's Mr. Griffith's office?”

     “I'll take you there,” Molly offered. She took the lead as they headed off again.

**SCENEBREAK**

     When they got there, the plasmavore was gone, but Mr. Griffith's body was still there, ashen-faced and still. The Doctor leaned down beside him and checked his pulse, but she didn't need the grim shake of his head to know her boss was dead. She worked with death every day – she knew it when she saw it.

     The Doctor sighed. “Drained him dry,” he observed grimly. “Every last drop.” He ran an agitated hand through his messy hair. “What's she playing at? She'll get executed right along with us if the Judoon decide to do that. Come on.” He got up and started towards the door. Molly went silently to Mr. Griffith's side to shut his eyes, then hurried after the alien.

     As they left the office, the Doctor starting talking animatedly. “Think, think, think, if I'm a wanted plasmavore in a hospital, what do I do?” His eyes widened as they came upon a sign that read “MRI.”

     “Oh, she's clever,” the Doctor realized, “Clever as me. Well, almost.

     Suddenly, Judoon appeared from further down the hallway. “Find all non-humans,” one ordered the rest of his troop.

     The Doctor turned abruptly to Molly and put his hands on her shoulders, causing her to let out a slight squeak of surprise. “Molly, I need you to stall the Judoon for me.”

     Molly felt a shiver of fear, but just nodded calmly. “Just tell me what to do,” she said. Never mind what happened to her, she'd do what it took to help the Doctor and save these people.

     The Doctor hesitated. “Listen, this means nothing. It could save everyone in this hospital, and it means nothing at all. Alright?” Before Molly could reply, he pulled her shoulders closer and pulled her into a kiss. It was chaste, but it lasted several moments before the Doctor pulled back. He gave her a final nod, then took off running again.

     Molly was still slightly dazed by the kiss, but she stayed in the hallway where the Doctor'd left her. She believed him when he'd said it meant nothing, and to her surprise, it meant nothing to her either. The Doctor was fantastic and brilliant, but all she'd felt when he kissed her was the silly wish that it had been another brilliant, almost alien man instead. What she felt for the Doctor was curiosity, not the longing she felt for Sherlock, or even the affection she felt for Jim.

     Only moments later, the Judoon, still in formation, came straight up to her. One of the creatures held up his scanner to her face. She flinched away from the uncomfortably close light as the device beeped. “Human,” the Judoon grunted.

     Suddenly, the beeping changed tempo. “Wait. Non-human traces detected.” The Judoon grabbed her by the throat with its still-gloved hand and shoved her against the wall. Molly let out a slight squeak of protest, but with the Judoon's hand pressing on her throat it came out more like a gasp. The Judoon looked her with beady brown eyes peering out of its wrinkled, gray face. “What are you?” the creature demanded.

     Molly forced herself to stay still as the Judoon continued to scan her, consulting in brief grunts with the other Judoon. Several minutes passed; Molly could only hope it was enough for whatever the Doctor was planning. Finally, the Judoon lowered his scanner. “Confirmed. Human with non-human traces.” He marked her hand with a black X, then pulled a strange slip of paper out of his pocket. “You will need this,” he informed her.

     Molly massaged her throat, which was still sore from the Judoon's grip. “What for?” she rasped as she took the paper in one hand.

     “Compensation.” With that, the Judoon rejoined his troop and started off in the direction the Doctor had gone. Molly hurried after the Judoon that had scanned her, safe now that she'd been marked, and eager to get back to the Doctor and figure out what was going on.

     She just hoped the Doctor had gotten the time he needed.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The Judoon marched their way to one of the rooms, pushing the doors open and barging in. Molly was right at the front, so she was one of the first to see the scene that awaited them. She froze in horror as she saw the familiar scene from Griffith's office, only now it was the Doctor lying white-faced on the ground. “No,” she whispered. It couldn't be true. The Doctor couldn't be dead.

     Through her panic, she could hear the plasmavore telling the Judoon, “Now look what you've done! This poor man just died of fright.”

     One of the Judoon grunted, “Scan him.” Another complied, waving the scanner across the Doctor, before concluding, “Confirmation: deceased.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's more of my Sherlock/DW crossover for ya. Bit of an odd place to end it, but the chapter was getting kinda long so I decided to chop it in half. Which means you might even get the next chapter later today.


	3. Hooper and Smith: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly tries to figure out how to stop the plasmavore.

     Molly's heart tightened in her chest. She'd barely known him, but he'd tried so hard to save all those people. She tried to get past the Judoon. “Let me see him. Let me check!”

     One of the creatures put a hand on her shoulder, holding her back. “Stop,” it told her. “Case closed.”

     Molly felt a wave of grief for the brave alien who'd tried to save them. Wait... the Doctor was an alien. “You drank his blood,” she realized as she stared at the plasmavore. The Doctor had sacrificed himself so the plasmavore would assimilate his blood.

     The Doctor might be dead, but maybe it wouldn't be in vain.

     She grabbed one of the Judoon's scanners and pointed it at the old woman, turning it on. It let out the same rapid series of beeps it had when it scanned the Doctor. The Judoon beside her stiffened. “Non-human,” he grunted.

     Mrs. Finnigan's eyes widened in panic. “What?

     “Confirm analysis,” the Judoon ordered his troop. The rest of them lifted their scanners, various beeps filling the air.

     Mrs. Finnigan began to back away slowly. “Oh, but it's a mistake, surely,” she babbled nervously. “I'm human, I'm as human as they come.”

     The scanners were lowered. “Confirm: plasmavore,” the Judoon growled. “Charged with the crime of murdering the child princess of Padrivole Regency Nine.”

     The old lady stiffened, her eyes suddenly gleaming with a cruel light. “Well she deserved it,” she sneered. “Those pink cheeks and those blond curls, and that simpering voice.” She straightened to her full height, her old face suddenly full of menace. “She was begging for the bite of a plasmavore!”

     The Judoon seemed unimpressed with her speech. “Then you confess?”

     “Confess?” the plasmavore scoffed. “I'm proud of it!” She turned to her Slab. “Stop them!” she ordered as she headed towards the MRI machine in the back of the room. The Slab advanced towards the Judoon, but the rhino-like creatures lifted their guns as one. Molly had to look away as the Slab was disintigrated.

     The Judoon was still watching the plasmavore as she messed around with the controls on the MRI. “Verdict – guilty. Sentence – execution.”

     As the plasmavore plugged something together, a loud alarm blared out from the machine. She looked up from her work with a face wild with cruelty and menace. “Enjoy your victory, Judoon!” she sneered, eyes gleaming with a wild light, “Because you're going to burn with me. Burn in he-”

     Molly didn't have to look up to know that she'd been cut off by a whole troop's worth of guns firing at her. All she was concerned about was the Doctor. She hurried to his side, sliding down onto her knees, quickly checking his pulse. At closer sight, he seemed far less pale than Mr. Griffiths, and though she could feel no pulse, he didn't seem dead to her.

     “Case closed,” one of the Judoon grunted.

     She looked up at them from her position by the Doctor. “That thing she said. 'Burn with me.' What did she mean?” She shifted her gaze to the MRI machine, which was sparking madly, electricity zapping through it. “There's something wrong. She did something to that. We're still in danger.”

     The Judoon who'd spoken strode up to the machine and scanned it. “Scans detect lethal acceleration of monomagnetic pulse,” he informed her.

     Molly drew in a sharp breath. “Can you stop it?” she asked fearfully.

     The Judoon looked at her without emotion. “Our jurisdiction has ended,” he told her unconcernedly. “Judoon will evacuate.” Without another word, he and his troop headed out the doors, amidst Molly's protests.

     She contemplated going after them, but she knew she couldn't convince them to come back. The Doctor had been right; the Judoon were thick. They couldn't be convinced to help now that the case was over.

     The pathologist turned back to the Doctor, hoping with everything she had that her hunch about him not being dead was right. “We need your help, Doctor,” she said quietly. Then she got to work trying to revive him with CPR. One, two, three, four, five, then breath. One, two, three, four, five, then breath. One...

     She paused, the Doctor's earlier off-hand comment coming back to mind. “Two hearts. You've got two hearts.” With that in mind, she switched to trying to start both hearts before giving him air. One, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five, then breath.

     Molly could feel her energy fading. She knew she didn't have long before she ran out of air, but the Doctor needed to live. He needed to save the hospital and everyone in it. So she drew in the biggest breath she could manage, giving the air to the Doctor, before slumping down beside him, too exhausted to go on.

     Beside her, the Doctor sputtered back to life, coughing and gasping as he tried to get air back into his lungs. Molly let out a little relieved laugh, then winced at the loss of air. “Doctor,” she rasped, desperate to get her words across before she passed out. “The machine. She did something to it.”

     The last thing she saw before she blacked out was the Doctor's nod of understanding, and all she was felt was relief that, even if she was lost, everyone else would be saved.

**SCENEBREAK**

     After the Judoon sent the hospital back and the Doctor left Molly in the capable hands of the paramedics, he found himself pacing in his TARDIS. That wasn't unusual in this particularly manic incarnation, but this time was a little more frantic than usual. He went back and forth, his thoughts racing as his ship flew him through the Time Vortex.

     He hadn't traveled with anyone since losing Rose. The idea had hurt too much, and it had always seemed like too much of a betrayal of the woman he'd lov... lost. But Molly Hooper had intrigued and impressed him from the moment he'd met her, and in the end she'd been willing to sacrifice herself to save everyone in that hospital. For no other reason than that, he'd be glad to have her on board.

     And yet. He'd been lonely for so long, true, but his loneliness was his sacrifice for the woman he'd lost. He almost wondered if it'd hurt more to have someone around again, someone in all the places Rose had once been, at his side where she could no longer stand.

     Finally he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, to hell with it,” he muttered. Curiosity won out – he wanted to know more about this Molly Hooper.

     The Time Lord bounded back over to the console, letting himself grin again. “Come on, old girl. Time to go pick up a friend.

**SCENEBREAK**

     “I need to see him, Molly,”

     The pathologist sighed, trying to ignore the headache that had started several minutes ago. “Sherlock, I told you, the hospital's closing. I can't get you in.”

     It was several hours after the hospital had been returned to Earth. The detective and his far more normal partner were standing outside of St. Bart's, inside the yellow tape, to the annoyance of the police. Sherlock seemed to have swallowed the press's story about every in the hospital being drugged, which surprised the coroner, but perhaps a man as logical and grounded as Sherlock Holmes couldn't accept something as impossible as aliens. He'd never seemed to believe the various reports of aliens in London either. Then again, Molly had never been sure they were real either. Not until now.

     The detective let out an impatient huff. “I need the results as soon as possible.”

     Molly finally gave in to the temptation to massage her throbbing temple. “I just can't Sherlock, okay?” She was far too tired to deal with this. Normally she would've caved by now, but right now all she wanted was to go home and sleep.

     The detective narrowed his eyes. “You said you'd let us see the body,” he reminded her.

      _That was before the hospital got transported to the moon, wasn't it!_  But as always, she couldn't say anything of the sort to the detective, so she settled for a tired, “Just not now, okay? I'll get it for you tomorrow.”

     Sherlock started to argue again, but to Molly's surprise, John cut him off. “Sherlock, enough. We'll just get them tomorrow.” The doctor shot Molly a sympathetic glance. She realized she must look as exhausted as she felt.

     The detective looked annoyed for a moment, but after a few moments gave a curt nod. Without so much as an  _are-you-alright-after-the-whole-bloody-hospital-got-drugged_ , the detective whirled around and sauntered off, followed by John, who shot the pathologisr an apologetic glance over his shoulder.

     Molly finally let out a sigh of relief, sinking a little against the wall she was leaning against. The conversation had left her feeling even more drained and less confident. All she wanted was to crawl back in bed and never come out again.

     But then she looked up, and she saw him.

     And this time with a slightly better idea of why, she followed him.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The Doctor waited in front of his TARDIS as Molly came around a corner. She stopped in front of him, shooting the TARDIS a slightly confused glance, but turned back to him with a relieved smile. “You're alright then?” she asked.

     “Me?” the Doctor asked incredulously. “I should be asking you. You're the one who nearly ran out of air.”

     The coroner blushed. “I'm fine,” she mumbled, though she looked anything but. “So, thanks for saving everyone. We would have all died if it hadn't been for you. If you're ever in town again, or you ever need anything, I'll help however I can.”

     The Doctor felt a rush of affection for the truly selfless woman. “Actually, there is one thing I was wondering. Y'see, I've got my new sonic screwdriver here,” he twirled it in his hand to make his point, “and I need to test drive it. And since you saved my life back there and everything, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to come along with me for a bit?” He'd meant to only offer one trip, but after watching the tall man sneering at her, and her just taking it, he was feeling a bit guilty about not asking her on full-time. She clearly had some serious self-esteem issues, and she'd probably accept the offer of only one trip without realizing what he was really trying to offer.

     Molly frowned in confusion. “Come with you? Where?”

     “Anywhere,” he told her with a grin. “Anywhere at all in time or space. Far-off planets, distant pasts, this box here can take you to all of them.”

     Molly gave the box a slightly critical look. “The blue box behind you?”

     The Doctor nodded eagerly. “It's my spaceship. She's called the TARDIS – stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space.”

     The pathologist looked a little dazed by his offer. “I... I can't, I've got work... and Sherlock needs to see that body tomorrow...”

     The Time Lord leaned forward with an encouraging grin. “She travels in time too, remember? I can take you away for days on end and have you home five minutes ago.” He didn't realize until now how much he wanted her to come. He'd been so lonely for so long. “C'mon, what'dya say?”

     Molly hesitated, “Is your life always like this?”

     The Doctor longed to lie, to reassure her, but he knew it wouldn't be fair. “Yes,” he admitted.

     Her eyes flicked back to the hospital behind her before she finally nodded. “Alright. If I can be of help, I'll come.”

     The Doctor was surprised by her declaration. Her self-esteem really was lower than he'd thought, if she was walking willingly into danger just with the intention of helping, rather than her own enjoyment. But he had a new companion now, so he could worry about her reasons for coming later. “Well then, Miss Hooper, welcome aboard.” He opened the door of the TARDIS for her, watching with amusement as she made her way inside.

     The coroner let out an audible gasp, whirling around to get a complete view of the interior. “No way,” she breathed. “It's... this is impossible!... but it's...”

     “Bigger on the inside?” the Doctor supplied cheekily, holding back a chuckle at his new companion's dumbfounded expression.

     After the initial shock wore off, Molly let out a slightly breathless laugh, a huge grin creeping across her face. “It's wonderful.”

     The Doctor and his companion were ready to face their next adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was probably a record on updating for me. I'll try to have the next chapter up soon, but I may update my other fanfics between then and now. Up next is the episode The Shakespeare Code.


	4. The Shakespeare Code: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor takes Molly to see a play by Shakespeare - and to see the man himself.

     Moments after she first stepped inside, Molly felt she’d need more eyes to truly appreciate the interior of the TARDIS. The roof domed far over her head, reaching far higher than the exterior suggested, and the walls reached out far around her. Aliens had been unexpected, but not entirely implausible to her. This, however, was something entirely different. A box that was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. Much, much bigger. A box that, if the Doctor was telling the truth, could travel through time and space in the blink of an eye.

     The console in the center of the room was covered in countless buttons and switches and dials. It looked like the type of set-up that required several people working at once, but there appeared to be no one in the room besides her and the Doctor. Still, there appeared to be doors leading off to other parts of the ship. Maybe the rest of the crew was further inside.

     She turned back to the Doctor. “Is there anyone else on board? Do you have a crew, or…?”

     “Nah, it’s just me. And, well, you now.” Something about the Doctor’s grin just didn’t reach his eyes. His expression softened into one of sad remembrance. “Well, sometimes I travel with others. You know, friends, companions. Humans like you, mostly. The last one… the last one was Rose, her name was Rose.” The alien grew quiet for a few moments. “I lost her,” he admitted softly.

     Molly felt a rush of sympathy for the alien. Just from the way he’d said her name, she could tell this Rose meant a lot to him. From the moment she’d met him, he always seemed to wear the same goofy grin, but this felt more real to her than his cheer from before. She remembered the quick flashes of sadness he had shown earlier, and she had to wonder just how deep his hurt went. She had known too many people who had been hiding pain to not see what the Doctor was doing. “I’m sorry,” she told him gently.

     The Doctor smiled sadly. “Yeah,” was all he said. After a few moments, something seemed to occur to him, and he looked up at Molly with a narrowed glance. “You’re not here to replace her,” he warned firmly.

     Molly shook her head quickly. “Oh no, I’d never try to,” she told him earnestly. “I just want to help however I can.” She wasn’t trying to be the John Watson to his Sherlock. She wasn’t cut out to be a partner, but if she could help save worlds the way they’d saved the hospital only hours earlier, then anything she did would be worth it.

     His serious expression disappeared, replaced once again by the cheerful grin. “Good! Alright then, I think I know a good spot to visit.”

     Molly felt a rush of excitement, but at the idea of running around on a whole new adventure, she felt her exhaustion return full-force. She tried to stifle a yawn, but she wasn’t fast enough to hide it from the Doctor. The alien gave her an evaluating glance, expression softening as he took in how exhausted she looked. “On second thought, maybe you should get some sleep first.”

     Molly fought to keep her expression cheerful. “I’m fine,” she lied.

     The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Molly, if you haven’t already noticed, there tends to be a lot of running in my life. I’ll need you awake for that.” When she still hesitated, he added, “It’s not like we’re going to be late for anything. This is a time machine, remember? In two seconds I can have us having lunch with Winston Churchill.”

     The pathologist finally caved. “Alright. What about you?”

     “Superior Time Lord biology,” the alien boasted. “I don’t need as much sleep as humans. I’ll just throw us in the Time Vortex for the night.” With that, he turned and bounded over to the console in the center of the room. He started circling around the console, throwing up switches, spinning dials, and pressing buttons at a whirlwind speed. It was an odd dance to be sure, but it seemed to work, for the TARDIS suddenly gave a massive shudder. Molly gave a squeak of surprise as the ship continued to shake violently. She tried to catch herself on the railing, but just ended up getting thrown to the ground, landing clumsily on her elbow.

     As the shaking subsided, she let out a slight groan, rubbing her elbow where she’d landed on it. “Ow.”

     The Doctor looked at her somewhat sheepishly from his spot by the console. “Sorry about that.”

     Molly got to her feet, hand on the railing in case the ship decided to have another shaking spell. “It’s fine. Er… is it always like that?”

     He scratched the back of his neck, which Molly had noticed he seemed to do whenever he wanted to stall. “Well… yeah. I mean, we’re traveling through time and space, there’s going to be a bit of turbulence.”

     Privately, Molly though it had more to do with his manic driving than turbulence, but she let the matter rest. “Right.” The Doctor seemed to give a whole new meaning to “driving like crazy.”

     The Doctor threw down a final switch, and the TARDIS stilled entirely. “Right, we should be good in the Vortex for the night. Rooms are down the hall, four lefts and a right, pick any room you want that’s unlocked.”

     “’Kay,” Molly mumbled, stifling another yawn. She started toward the hall the Doctor had indicated, but before exiting the console room, she turned back to face him. “Time Lord biology?” she questioned.

     The Doctor nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I am, a Time Lord.”

     Even through her exhaustion, Molly felt a rush of satisfaction to finally be learning more about the Doctor. She’d only met him a few hours ago, true, but in that time he’d dodged every personal question Molly had tried to ask. She got the feeling he wasn’t really one to talk about himself, and while it wasn’t much, a species name was a good start. “Right. Time Lord. Cool. Well, good night, Doctor.” With that, she headed out of the console room and into the hall.

     After a confusing few minutes wandering the halls and trying to remember what the Doctor’d told her, she finally found one of the un-marked rooms the Doctor had been talking about. It was pretty barren – a bed, some dressers, and fairly bland walls. In her current state, however, Molly could honestly care less. With no clothes packed, she had no choice but to crawl into bed with her clothes from the day still on. The minute her head hit the pillow, she was gone.

**SCENEBREAK**

     When Molly woke several hours later, she wondered groggily why her alarm hadn’t gone off, and whether she’d promised to get to work early that day or not. Then she remembered.

     Still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, Molly wandered the TARDIS’s halls until she eventually found the console room again. The Doctor was there, bent over the controls. He looked up when Molly came in. “Good morning!” he greeted cheerfully. He too appeared to be in roughly the same clothes as the day before, though the tie and suit had changed under his coat. “Ready for more running today?”

     Molly couldn’t stop the excited grin creeping over her face. “Sure!” Now that she was rested, she was eager to see the whole new world the Doctor had described. “Where are we going?”

     “You’ll see in a minute,” was all the Doctor would say. He started hurrying around the console again, pausing to look at Molly before pulling the final lever. “You ready for this?”

     Molly gave a helpless sort of shrug. “I guess?” She had absolutely no idea what would be waiting outside those doors. It could be a long-forgotten past, a distant future, a planet far from home. It could be absolutely  _anything_ , and now that it was about to happen, it was slightly terrifying.

     The Doctor gave an excited grin. “Hang on!” When he pulled the final lever, the TARDIS starting shaking as violently as the day before. This time, however, Molly was ready for it, and was already clinging to the console when the ship took off. Now that she wasn't exhausted, the Doctor's crazy driving just made her more excited. This was really happening. She was really traveling through time.

     Finally, the ship's shaking subsided. The Doctor bounded over to the front door, whirling around to face her. He almost seemed more excited than her. “Outside those doors,” he told her with an air of an eager school teacher, “brave new world.” With a grand flourish he opened the doors for her, letting her walk past him before shutting and locking them behind them.

     It was like walking into a historical film. She was pretty sure it was London, but the houses were smaller and made of brick, with stone pathways replacing the asphalt streets. The sounds of cars rushing past and horns honking were replaced by birdsong and the chattering of the huge throng of people milling through the streets. The vast number of people was probably the most familiar aspect for Molly, having lived in London for the last few years, but even that was changed. They were dressed in different assortments of skirts and tunics and breeches, with frilly collars and puffy sleeves. Everything seemed so Elizabethan. It was like a dream.

     Molly let out a slight, breathless laugh. “Oh my god.” She spun around, trying to take in as much of it as she could. “Oh my god! We're actually here! We traveled through  _time_!” With another laugh, she turned to the Doctor, who was watching her with amusement. “Where... er, when are me? Well, I guess I mean where and when? Oh, I don't know.” She forced herself to stop babbling and settled for just staring around in amazement.

     A warning shout of “Mind the loo!” came from overhead. The Doctor hurried to pull Molly out of the way just as a bucket was emptied from a window overhead. A rank smell filled the air from where Molly had just been standing. “Apparently,” the Doctor noted with distaste, “somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that.”

     Molly shrugged. “It's fine, I do post-mortems, it's nothing new.” She pulled herself from the Doctor's grasp and stepped gingerly around the mess, staring wide-eyed at the city around her. “This is just... this is incredible. I'm in the past.”

     “Good ol' Elizabethan London,” the Doctor said fondly. He had his hands tucked behind his back, once again giving Molly the impression of an eager school teacher about to launch into a lecture. As he started to lead her down the street, he informed her, “It's a couple hundred years after the black death, and it's like the country decides to poke it's head out again. Everything's changing; new ideas, new sciences, new discoveries. It's a whole new world that's growing by the minute.” He had this goofy, eager grin on his face as he blurted out the information a mile a minute, as though constantly excited by the brilliance of the humans around him.

     The pathologist sighed happily, still dazed by the whole thing. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. “Hang on.” She turned to face the Doctor, brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Isn't anyone going to notice a big blue box sitting in the middle of the street?”

     “Nah,” the Doctor dismissed the idea casually, “London's always been the sort of place where anything goes. Really, it's not so different from your time. Look over there, you've got recycling,” he pointed out a man shoveling horse manure from the street, adding, “Water cooler movement,” as they passed some men conversing at a water barrel.

     As the Doctor talked, they had passed by a preacher desperately clutching a bible in one hand and ringing a bell in the other. “...and the world will be consumed by flames!” he proclaimed in a dire tone.

     “And global warming,” the Doctor finished with a grin. With a surge of energy, he spun around to face Molly, using his hands wildly as he spoke. “Oh and yes, entertainment! Popular entertainment for the masses.” He started to look around as if searching for something, craning his neck to get a better view over the crowd. “If I’m right, we’re just down the river by Southwark right next to...”

     He seemed to have found what he was looking for, for he gave a sudden grin. The Time Lord grabbed Molly by the hand and started pulling her down the street and around one of the corners.

     When they'd passed the corner, they could see a tall, rounded white building. It stood out in stark contrast from the dull browns and grays of the smaller houses surrounding it. The Doctor grinned appreciatively at the sight. “Oh, yes, the Globe Theatre! Brand new. Just opened. Through, strictly speaking, it’s not a globe; it’s a tetradecagon – 14 sides – containing the man himself.”

     Molly drew in a sharp breath as she realized what he was hinting at. “Wait, no. You don't mean...”

     “Shakespeare!” The Doctor proclaimed. “The genius himself.” He offered Molly his arm as he offered dramatically, “Miss Hooper, would you accompany me to the theater?”

     Molly linked her arm with his, still grinning like an idiot. “Of course!” She had never been a huge Shakespeare fan, but she'd enjoyed reading Hamlet and Macbeth. And even if some of his work was hard to get through and boring, there was no denying he was one of the best, most brilliant minds of his time. And she was actually going to get to meet him!

**SCENEBREAK**

     The play wasn’t one Molly had ever heard of before. “Love Labour’s Lost” was an amusing comedy about three men who swore off of female company for three years for the purposes of studying, only to fall comically in love with three noble ladies. Molly soon found herself enjoying the play more than she’d been expecting. It was easier to understand Shakespeare’s words when they were being acted out in front of her.

     When the play finished, the crowd began clapping appreciatively. Molly joined in, trying to control the idiot grin still on her face. “I can’t believe we just watched an actual Shakespeare play, in Elizabethan times.” She turned to the Doctor hopefully. “Is Shakespeare himself going to come out?”

     The Time Lord shrugged, but someone next to Molly seemed to have heard her, for they called out, “Shakespeare!” in a loud tone. The cry was repeated and was soon taken up by the whole crowd. “Shakespeare! Shakeaspeare!” The Doctor watched the crowd with amusement. “Well, looks like he’ll have to now,” he observed.

     As the cry continued through the crowd, a man came out onto the stage. He had quite a bit more hair than in his portraits, and he seemed a bit better-looking, but just from his bearing and the way the crowd went wild when he came out, there was no doubt of who he was. “Oh my god,” Molly breathed. “That’s William Shakespeare.”

     The Doctor seemed almost beside himself with excitement. “Genius. He’s a genius -  _the_  genius. The most human human that’s ever been. Now we’re gonna hear him speak. Always, he chooses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words.”

     The man on stage gave a hearty laugh at the crowd’s excitement, then leaned forward and shouted, “Shut your big fat mouths!”

     The audience laughed appreciatively, but the Doctor just slumped back in his seat. “Oh well,” he said with disappointment.

     Molly held back a chuckle as Shakespeare continued smugly, “You have excellent taste! I’ll give you that.” He pointed out to some man in the audience. “Oh, that’s a wig!”

     The crowd roared with laughter as the famed author continued, “I know what you’re all saying. 'Loves Labour’s Lost', that’s a funny ending, isn’t it? It just stops! Will the boys get the girls?” He paused dramatically for a few moments as the audience held its breath, then held up his hands in a gesture of concession. “Well, don’t get your hose in a tangle, you’ll find out soon. Yeah, yeah. All in good time. You don’t rush a genius.”

     Shakespeare gave an over-exaggerated bow as the crowd went wild cheering for him. Molly wondered sadly for a moment why it was all the greatest men seemed to be so smug and conceited. Then again, it wasn’t like they didn’t have reason to be.

     Suddenly, the playwright jerked back, face going blank for a second. Molly wondered if something was wrong, but the expression was gone in a matter of moments, replaced by a confiding grin. “When? Tomorrow night.”

     The crowd went wild, but the Doctor just frowned thoughtfully. Molly wondered briefly what was going through his head before turning back to watch Shakespeare again. “The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it 'Loves Labour’s Won'!”

     The author preened under the audience’s cheers, and Molly felt a thrill of excitement. History was happening right in front of her. This man had been dead and buried for hundreds of years, and yet here he was, right in front of her, coming up with new words and new ideas.

     If that was what one trip on the TARDIS was like, what would it be like to live there every day?

**SCENEBREAK**

     “Doctor?” Molly asked a little nervously. “Er, would you mind if we stay here another night? I kind of want to see ‘Love Labour’s Won.’”

     The Doctor still seemed worried about something. “To be honest,” he said thoughtfully, “I’m not sure there’s going to be a performance.

     Molly’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why not?”

     “Because ‘Love Labour’s Won’ is better known in your time as the lost play,” he told her. “It doesn’t exist — only in rumors. It’s mentioned in lists of his plays but never ever turns up. No one knows why.”

     “Well, it’s been a few hundred years,” the pathologist reasoned. “Maybe all the copies were lost for some reason. It doesn’t mean it was never performed.”

     The Doctor nodded and said, “True,” but he didn’t seem convinced. “Either way, only one way to find out I guess. And I think I know just the place to room.”

     Arm in arm, the Doctor and his companion walked through the streets of Elizabethan London, wondering what the next day would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the start of the second chapter for you. I really hope I got Molly right, I've been having a bit of trouble writing her lately. The problem is that in Sherlock, she's always in a situation where she's either being insulted or ignored, so there's nowhere to draw her reaction to being in the limelight from. I hope you guys like it regardless.
> 
> You'll also probably notice I started describing Molly as a pathologist rather than a coroner. Someone informed me of my mistake with her career earlier. At some point I'll go back and edit the rest of the story to match.
> 
> EDIT: The rest of the story has been changed so that Molly is consistently called a pathologist.


	5. The Shakespeare Code: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Molly decide to investigate the lost play Love Labour's Won.

     Even after the author’s earlier display, the Doctor was excited to actually sit down and talk with William Shakespeare. He could tell Molly was excited too, but she also seemed extremely nervous as he led her into the tavern. She had been pretty reserved the whole trip so far, actually; she hadn’t tried to wander off to look at something even once. That had to be some kind of record for a companion.

     The maid led them into the room where Shakespeare and two other men were sitting around a table. The Doctor couldn’t stop an idiot, fanboy grin creep over his face as he looked at one of the greatest geniuses of his time. “Hello! Excuse me, not interrupting, am I? Mister Shakespeare, isn't it?”

     Shakespeare groaned when the Doctor introduced himself and, rather rudely the Time Lord thought, started protesting, “Oh, no. No, no, no. Who let you in? No autographs. No, you can't have yourself sketched with me. And please don't ask where I get my ideas from. Thanks for the interest. Now be a good boy and shove…”

     To the Doctor’s amusement, the playwright trailed off when he saw Molly, his expression quickly switching from annoyance to a charming smile. “Hey nonny, nonny.”

     Molly blushed uncertainly, only adding to the Doctor’s amusement. He had a feeling that being flirted with by the famous William Shakespeare, as long as it didn’t get out of hand, might boost his companion’s confidence.

     Shakespeare waved the two over. “The fair maiden may sit here,” he said suavely as he gestured to the chair beside him. “You two get sewing on them costumes. Off you go.”

     The waitress serving them rolled her eyes and turned to Shakespeare’s companions. “Come on, lads. I think our William's found his new muse.” Molly blushed furiously at that, but no one called her out on it. The two men stood and headed out the door past the Doctor and his companion, soon followed by the waitress. Molly obliged the playwright’s request to sit beside him, giggling a little nervously.

     Shakespeare evaluated the pathologist appreciatively. “Such unusual clothes,” he remarked. “I’ve not seen a coat like yours before.”

     The pathologist colored as she looked down at her white lab coat. “Er, these are just my work clothes,” she laughed nervously. “I-I didn’t really get a chance to change before coming here.”

     The Doctor chose that moment to spare his companion and cut in. He held up his psychic paper for the playwright to see. “I’m Sir Doctor of Tardis, and this is my companion, Molly Hooper.”

     Shakespeare looked at the leather wallet critically. “Interesting, that bit of paper. It’s blank.”

     The Time Lord felt his grin widening, and made no attempt to hide his admiration as he gushed, “Oh, that's very clever. That proves it. Absolute genius.”

     Molly craned her neck to see the psychic paper, frowning a little at what she saw. “But it’s got words on it, I can see it,” she said with confusion.

     “And I say it’s blank,” Shakespeare repeated with conviction.

     “Psychic paper,” the Doctor explained to Molly. “Er, long story.” Now what to tell Shakespeare? “Oh, I hate starting from scratch.”

     “Psychic?” Shakespeare repeated with interest. “Never heard that before and words are my trade. Who are you exactly?” With a charming smile in Molly’s direction he added, “More's the point, who is your fair companion?”

     The Doctor grasped quickly at the best explanation he could find. “Er, Molly’s from a far-off land. Freedonia,” he added lamely.

     Shakespeare looked at him with disbelief, but before he could accuse him of lies, another man walked in. He was well-dressed, but he seemed rather red in the face as he glared at Shakespeare. “Excuse me! Hold hard a moment. This is abominable behavior. A new play with no warning? I demand to see a script, Mister Shakespeare. As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me before it can be performed.”

     Shakespeare sighed, seemingly slightly annoyed at the man's intrusion. “Tomorrow morning,” he promised, “first thing, I'll send it round.”

     The man glared at the playwright and sneered, “I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine. The script, now!”

     “I can't,” Shakespeare told him with a slight edge to his tone.  
     “Then tomorrow's performance is canceled,” the man growled out. “I'm returning to my office for a banning order. If it's the last thing I do, Love Labour's Won will never be played!” With an air of smugness, the man turned and swept out to the hall, leaving Shakespeare rubbing his temple.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Molly turned to the Doctor. “I guess that's the end of it then.”

     “I suppose.” In truth, the Doctor suspected there was more to the story. Nothing was ever that simple around him.

     “But the thing I don't get is,” Molly continued thoughtfully, “if the play never got performed or even finished, why was it listed among his plays?”

     The Doctor grinned at the question. This was one of the reasons he'd brought Molly with him; she was smart.

     Before he could answer her, a panicked scream sounded from outside, and a voice cried. “Help! Someone help him!”

     Without a second thought, the Time Lord was on his feet and bolting for the door. A crowd had gathered around something on the street. The Doctor pushed through so he could see what was happening.

     A man was staggering about, clutching his throat and spewing water from his mouth, eyes bugging with terror. “It's Mr. Lynley!” Molly gasped. The Doctor hadn't noticed her following him, but he was glad to realize she had jumped at the call for help as quickly as he had.

     The Time Lord paused for a moment. He'd never seen someone with symptoms like that. “What's wrong with him?” When the terrified man spurted out more water, he hurried towards him. “Let me through, I'm a doctor!”  _Or near enough._  Molly, the rightful doctor, said nothing as she followed him.

     The Doctor had one hand on the man's chest and one on his shoulder, trying to steady him, but other than that he really didn't know what else to do. Molly was doing about the same, trying to figure out where the water was coming from.

     Suddenly, the man gave a violent jerk, his eyes going wide, before collapsing to the ground with a final groan. Molly went to check for a pulse while the Doctor watched, puzzled. “Mr. Lynley? Can you hear me Mr. Lynley? Hold on, just try to breath, yeah? We'll get you some help.”

     But it was too later. Lynley spewed out one last spurt of water, then slumped to the ground, dead. Molly stared at him in shock, slowly drawing back. “He... he drowned. But there wasn't any water here! It's like it was coming from...  _inside_  him.” She turned to him, looking shaken by what had happened, but there was only concern in her voice as she asked, “What happened to him, Doctor?”

     The Doctor furrowed his brow, staring at the body in confusion. “I’ve never seen a death like it.  His lungs are full of water — he drowned and then... I dunno, like a blow to the heart, an invisible blow.”

     He turned to look at the crowd gathered around. When he noticed the waitress from earlier standing nearby, he told her, “Good mistress, this poor fellow has died from a sudden imbalance of the humors. A natural if unfortunate demise. Call a constable and have him taken away.”

     The waitress looked shaken, but bowed and gave a quick, “Yes sir,” before turning and walking off.

     That taken care of, the Doctor turned his attention back to the body, and the girl crouched over it. “I don't understand,” Molly said hesitantly. “He drowned, so why are you saying it's an imbalance of the humors?”

     "This lot still have got one foot in the Dark Ages,” the Time Lord explained grimly. “If I tell them the truth, they’ll panic and think it was witchcraft.”

     “Alright,” Molly agreed quietly. After a few moments, she asked nervously, “...do you know what actually happened?”

     “Witchcraft.”

**SCENEBREAK**  
     After the constable had come and taken care of Lynley, the Doctor and Molly headed back into the tavern, neither any clearer about what just happened. Shakespeare stayed out with them, but no one tried to make conversation. Everyone was wrapped up in their own thoughts about the death they’d just witnessed.

     Several minutes after they returned, the waitress from earlier, who they’d learned was named Dolly Bailey, approached the Doctor. “I got you a room, Sir Doctor,” she informed him. “You and Miss Hooper are just across the landing.” He nodded, and she turned and left.

     “Poor Lynley.” Shakespeare was the one to finally break the silence. “So many strange events.” With that, his solemnity faded, to be once again replaced by a charming grin aimed at Molly. “Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor.”

     Molly looked surprised and slightly flustered. “How did you…?”

     Shakespeare just smiled smugly. “You knew what you were doing with Lynley, and I’ve only seen hands so steady on physicians.” When Molly just shrugged in reply, he turned to the Time Lord. “And you, Sir Doctor. How can a man so young have eyes so old?”

     “I do a lot of reading,” he replied flatly. Actually, that did remind him. He hadn't mentioned the whole really-over-900-years-old thing to Molly yet. He resolved to do that at a later date, along with a warning about regeneration. Not warning Rose had had some nasty consequences.

     The playwright chuckled. “A trite reply,” he observed. “Yes, that’s what I’d do. And you,” he added as he turned back to Molly, “You look at him like you’re surprised he exists. He’s as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me.”

     The pathologist looked at the Doctor questioningly, clearly not sure how much she was allowed to reveal. When no answer forthcoming, she instead ignored the question and settled for, “I think I’m just going to go to bed then. Er, goodnight.” She started to curtsy, then seemed to realize that this wasn’t the right time period for that, and turned it into a sort of awkward bobbing movement before turning and leaving.

     The playwright got to his feet. “I must work. I have a play to complete.” With a knowing look at the Doctor, he added, “But I’ll get my answer tomorrow, Doctor, and I’ll discover more about you and why this constant performance of yours.”

     The Time Lord smirked disbelievingly. No one ever guessed his life, and few believed it even when he laid it right out for them. But let Shakespeare try, if he would. “All the world’s a stage,” was all he said.

     Shakespeare nodded appreciatively. “Hmm, I might use that. Goodnight, Doctor.”

     “Nighty night, Shakespeare,” the Doctor replied with a smirk. It was sentences like that, crazy situations that led to him talking casually to long-dead people of fame, that made him love his life so much.

     He turned and headed off towards the room Dolly Bailey had indicated, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The room they’d been sent to was fairly small, sparse furniture and one bed. Molly couldn’t be too critical though. It kind of reminded her of the places she’d lived in when she first moved to London. There was, however, one detail that stood out to her. “Er, there’s only one bed?” It had meant to be a statement, but her voice sort of went high at the end, turning it into a question.

     The Doctor shrugged. “We’ll manage.” He flopped down on the bed, leaving a space for Molly. The pathologist stood awkwardly, uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping next to the Doctor. She didn’t have any feelings for him, true, but there was still something awkward about the idea for her.

     Instead, she settled for a bit of nervous babbling. “I guess there’s not anything to change into here? I’ve been in my work clothes since yesterday. Wasn’t really awake enough to think about that. I guess we’ll have to stop at my place to get clothes then? Or something?”

     The Time Lord looked thoughtful. “Hadn’t thought of that. We can drop by your place if you want, but the TARDIS wardrobe has plenty of stuff that’ll fit you.”

     “Oh. Okay.” There was an awkward silence for a few moments. “Er, Doctor? Traveling with you… am I ever going to go back home? Can I visit, or are there rules or something?”

     The Doctor sobered a bit, looking at his companion seriously. “Of course you can go back home if you want,” he told her quietly, “but will you be able to tell anyone there about the TARDIS without sounding mad? I don’t know much about it myself, but just from watching companions go through this, I know it’s not easy living a life on the TARDIS and a life at home.” His expression suddenly switched to one of curiosity as he asked, “Have you got any family at home?”

     Molly shook her head. “My dad died when I was still in school, and my mum passed when I was really young. I’ve got…” she trailed off as she really thought about it. What did she have back in London? Sherlock? Hardly. Her work? Plenty of other people were far more qualified. Friends? Sadly enough, Sherlock Holmes was probably the closest thing she had.

     “Jim,” she finally remembered. “I’ve got my boyfriend, Jim.” She hadn’t known him long, but she liked him, and he’d been so nice to her.

     The Doctor’s expression became one of distaste. “We’re not bringing him on the TARDIS,” he warned her.

     “Alright,” Molly agreed easily. Somehow she didn’t see the mild-tempered Jim faring well on the time machine anyway.

     The Time Lord seemed to hear something off in her tone, for he looked at her carefully. “Are you alright, Molly?”

     “Yeah, of course,” she said automatically. The Doctor’s expression plainly told her he didn’t believe her. “It’s just… I should’ve guessed, the life you lead, but… I just wasn’t expecting… I’ve never actually seen someone die before. I mean, I work with dead bodies all day, I’m used to death, but I’ve never actually seen someone die before. And I just… I couldn’t help him today. I didn’t know how. I’m not that kind of doctor.”

     “It’s not your fault, Molly.” The Doctor’s voice carried sympathy and no short amount of understanding. “Even a top surgeon from your time wouldn’t have known what to do. This is way beyond human technology. We couldn’t save Lynley, but we can find out who’s behind this.” After a moment’s silence, he asked a little reluctantly, “Do you want to go home?” It was clear he hated having to ask, that he was lonely and wanted her to stay, but he left it up to her.

     Molly shook her head. “No, no, I’m good. I can still help.” The Doctor didn’t seem too pleased with her choice of words, but he let it go for the present. The mood had gotten pretty heavy with the way the conversation had gone. Molly scrambled for something to say to lighten the mood, finally settling with, “So, witchcraft huh? Like in Harry Potter?” That was one of her favorite book series, though she’d die before she admitted it to Sherlock Holmes.

     The Doctor’s sober mood vanished instantly, replaced by a knowing, excited grin. “Wait until you read book seven,” he told her. “Oh, I cried.”

     The pathologist was puzzled. “But wait, book seven doesn’t come out until… oh right, time machine.” A sudden thought occurred to her, and she had to reign in her excitement as she asked, “So, does that mean we can hop into the future and buy the seventh book?”

     “If you want,” the Doctor said with a grin. “Now come on, are you going to stand there all night?”

     Molly had almost forgotten she’d been standing in front of the bed the whole time. “Oh, right, sorry.” Still feeling somewhat awkward, she settled down on the bed next to the Doctor. “So, is magic actually real?”

     “Of course not,” the Doctor scoffed, looking offended.

     “But earlier you said witchcraft,” Molly protested quietly.

     “Creatures like witches,” he explained. “But they’re not using magic, they’re using science, a really advanced form of science.” He shook his head incredulously. “Blimey, you humans are all the same. Present them with something they don’t understand and they all jump to ‘magic’ as the answer. You’re such a superstitious lot.”

     “…right, sorry.” To be honest, Molly was starting to get used to his constant insulting of the human race. It almost reminded her of how Sherlock treated everyone else like idiots all the time, but the Doctor didn’t seem to mean it maliciously. He seemed more confused and awed by humans than anything, rather than the arrogant Sherlock. Indeed, Molly was very much rethinking her initial assessment that the Doctor was similar to Sherlock.

     They were both geniuses, but Sherlock seemed to take it as proof of him being above other people, while the Doctor used it to help people, though he wasn't above showing off. Sherlock helped people as part of his job, but it was as a way to stave off boredom, to show off how clever he was. In the years she'd known him, he'd always been cold and analytical about his work. She'd never once heard him display sympathy for a victim.

     The Doctor, on the other hand, seemed to actually care about the people he saved. He wasn't showing off, he was actually trying to save lives for their own sake. She hadn't been sure at first, in the hospital, but then he'd sacrificed himself to save everyone, and then earlier with Lynley she'd seen concern in his eyes. He actually cared.

     Molly wondered briefly what was wrong with her that she fell for the self-proclaimed sociopath rather than the genius who actually cared. Then she forced herself to shake the thoughts away. Tomorrow she'd need to be awake to help figure out who killed Lynley. “Night, Doctor.” She turned and blew out the candle on the nightstand beside the bed, throwing the room into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another update. I hope you like my characterization of Molly, and I started using more Doctor POV.


	6. The Shakespeare Code: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Molly try to discover who - or what - killed Lynley.

     A scream late in the night woke the Doctor and his companion. The Time Lord was on his feet in an instant and out the door, followed closely by Molly. The scream had come from Shakespeare's room; when they got in, they found the playwright asleep at his desk, and Dolly Bailey dead on the floor. Molly paused, horrified, as the Doctor hurried to examine the body. There was nothing she could do now for the waitress; she recognized death when she saw it. But maybe there was still a chance of figuring out what had happened to her – or more specifically who.

     The door had been closed when they'd gotten there, but the window was open, still trembling slightly from being moved, so the pathologist hurried over to look outside. She froze in shock at what she saw. Outlined by silver moonlight, a far-off figure rode off on a broomstick in the night sky. The pathologist blinked rapidly.  _No way._  Before she could convince herself what she was seeing was real, the figure was gone.

     Behind her, she could hear Shakespeare wake with a start. “Wha’? What was that?”

     “Her heart gave out,” the Doctor realized, puzzled. “She died of fright.”

     Molly turned to face the two men. “Uh, Doctor?”

     The Time Lord came to join her at the window, peering out through. “What did you see?” he questioned when he couldn't see anything.

     Molly hesitated before admitting, “A witch.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     None of them could sleep after that. Instead, the three of them hung around Shakespeare's room, trying to puzzle out what had happened, until around dawn.

     Shakespeare seemed far more shaken by Dolly Bailey's death than Lynley's. “Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey. She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place. We all ran like rats.” He shook his head, half smiling at the memory. “But what could have scared her so? She had such enormous spirit.”

     “'Rage, rage against the dying of the light,'” the Doctor quoted grimly.

     The author's solemn mood vanished a moment as he grinned at the Doctor. “I might use that.”

     “You can't. It's someone else's,” the Time Lord told him bluntly.

     Molly shook her head, still trying to get the day's events through her head. “How can two people die so oddly in one day? Lynley drowned from water inside him, and Dolly died of fright. I've diagnosed a lot of bodies, and I can't remember ever ruling someone as having died of fear. And both of them connected to you.”

     Shakespeare narrowed his eyes. “You're accusing me?”

     “No no no, that's not what I meant!” Molly was quick to assure him. “I think it's connected to the play.”

     Shakespeare's brow furrowed. “Why do you say that?”

     The pathologist looked down at her hands. “Well, I mean, Lynley was killed right after he was trying to stop the play, and both deaths happened the night before your new play opens. All I'm saying is that it's a bit suspicious. I'd say they were trying to stop it, but since they killed Lynley, who was going to stop it anyway, they're probably after the opposite.”

     The Doctor grinned to himself as Molly theorized. She was clever, really clever, and didn't even seem to realize. He had a good feeling about her as a companion, even as he felt doubts about replacing Rose. Not that anyone could really replace her.

     Shakespeare looked thoughtful. “It is possible. I do not know who would benefit from my play being performed, however, and certainly not enough to kill for it.”

     Molly hesitated. “I... I saw a witch at the window. Have you ever dealt with witches before? I mean, you've written about them.”

     “I have?” the playwright asked, puzzled. “When was that?”

     The Doctor shook his head slightly for Molly to see. “No, not quite yet,” he told her quietly.

     The pathologist flushed at her mistake, but Shakespeare didn't seem to notice. Instead, he was looking thoughtful, strumming his fingers on his desk. “Peter Streete spoke of witches,” he remembered thoughtfully.

     “Who?” Molly asked.

     “Our builder,” Shakespeare explained. “He sketched the plans to the Globe.”

     There was something the Doctor was missing, something he'd been feeling since the start but just couldn't quite remember. But Shakespeare's words suddenly made him remember. “The architect. Hold on. The architect! The architect!” He was so caught up in his revelation that he slammed his fist on the desk. “The Globe! Come on!”

     Without further explanation, he led Shakespeare and Molly out the door.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The Doctor led them back to the Globe theater, not stopping to explain why to his companion or the playwright. He was scanning everything in the pit with the sonic screwdriver while Molly and Shakespeare watched from the stage. There were some strange readings in the air, but he couldn't quite pinpoint what they were. As he worked, he babbled to himself, “The columns there, right? Fourteen sides. I’ve always wondered but I never asked...” He turned to the author onstage. “Tell me, Will, why fourteen sides?”

     Shakespeare shrugged. “It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that’s all,” he explained. He didn't seem to think the question very important. “Said it carried the sound well.”

     The Doctor frowned thoughtfully. “Why does that ring a bell? Fourteen...”

     “There's fourteen lines in a sonnet,” Molly suggested. She remembered that one from English class back in school, and she'd always liked poems and sonnets more than plays or school novels.

     “So there is. Good point,” he praised her distractedly. “Words and shapes following the same design.” He began to pace, filled up with nervous energy as he tried to puzzle it out. “Fourteen lines, fourteen sides, fourteen facets…Oh, my head.  Tetradecagon... think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines!” His tone grew more and more frenzied as he tried to get closer to an answer.

     “This is just a theatre,” Shakespeare pointed out, looking puzzled at the Doctor's intensity.

     The Doctor turned to Shakespeare, surprised. “Oh, but a theatre’s magic, isn’t it? You should know. Stand on this stage, say the right words with the right emphasis a the right time... Oh, you can make men weep, or cry with joy, change them. You can change people’s minds just with words in this place. And if you exaggerate that...”

     Molly threw her guide an incredulous glance. She hesitated before she asked, "Are you saying... that the 'magic' of theatre could be turned into actual magic?"

     "Advanced science," the Doctor corrected automatically. "But yes, that's the idea. Tell you what, though. Peter Streete would know." He turned back to Shakespeare. "Can I talk to him?"

     "You won’t get an answer," the writer told him solemnly. "A month after finishing this place... lost his mind.

     "What happened?" Molly asked softly. Peter had clearly been the writer's friend.

     He sighed. "Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled."

     The mad bit was unfortunate, but the Doctor could still work with it. They needed this information. "Where is he now?"

     "Bedlam."

     Molly drew in a sharp breath. "The mental hospital?" Shakespeare nodded grimly in response.

     "We’re gonna go there," the Doctor decided. "Right now. Come on."

     He started off through the Globe's front doors, followed by Molly, and Shakespeare to his surprise. "Wait! I’m coming with you. I want to witness this at first hand."

     Two young men headed towards them, who the Doctor recognized as being actors from last night's play. Shakespeare stayed behind a moment to hand them his finished script, then hurried to catch up. He walked alongside Molly, several paces behind the Time Lord.

     As they walked, the Doctor heard Shakespeare talking to Molly again, charm in full force. "So, tell me of Freedonia, where women can be doctors, writers, actors."

     Molly's reply came in the form of awkward mumbling. "It's... pretty different. Uh, more crowded I guess, a lot busier. Besides, your country has a woman as Queen."

     "Ah, she’s royal. That’s God’s business. Though," he added suavely, "you are a royal beauty."

     Molly didn't reply; she was probably too busy blushing. They really didn't have time for this anyway, so the Doctor decided to save his companion from having to respond. He turned to face the two impatiently. "Come on, we can all have a good flirt later."

     Instead of looking offended, Shakespeare instead turned his charming smile on the Time Lord. "Is that a promise, Doctor?"

     The Doctor stared at the writer in surprise. He briefly thanked the universe that Jack Harkness wasn't with them right now - the two of them would be intolerable together. "Oh, 57 academics just punched the air. Now move!"

**SCENEBREAK**

     The moment they entered Bedlam, they could hear the groans and screams of the patients. There was a rank smell in the air, and the fear was nearly palpable. He saw Molly's eyes widen, not in fear, but in horror. Shakespeare tensed when they entered, but beyond a darkened gaze he said nothing.

     A grimy warden came out to meet them. When they told him what they wanted, he offered the Doctor with a leer, "Does my lord Doctor wish some entertainment while he waits? I’d whip these madmen. They’ll put on a good show for ya. Bandog and Bedlam!"

     Molly gaped at the man in horror, and the Doctor felt the fury rising up. Regretfully, he pushed it away; this was no time to be the Oncoming Storm, however much this man deserved it. There was still plenty of venom in his tone as he snapped, "No, I don’t!"

     The warden bowed shortly, not seeming to notice the Time Lord's anger. “Wait here, my lords, while I make him decent for the lady.” He shuffled off, leaving a still angry Time Lord with his horrified companion and the writer who'd led them here.

     He could tell how shaken Molly was, so he made his way over to her. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

     Molly nodded, though she still looked shaken. “I'm fine. But this... this is just sick! This isn't a hospital, it's a prison! Whipping people for entertainment.” The Doctor was surprised by her intensity in her tone – she was usually so quiet. She whipped around to glare at Shakespeare. “How could you put your friend in here?!”

     Shakespeare looked a bit miffed at her tone. “Oh, and it's all so different in Freedonia,” he said defensively.

     “But how could you ever think this was okay?”

     “I’ve been mad,” the writer explained shortly. “I’ve lost my mind. Fear of this place set me right again. It serves its purpose.”

     Molly's anger deflated. “Oh. Sorry, I didn't... what happened?”

     Before Shakespeare could answer, the Doctor cut in. “You lost your son,” he said softly.

     The writer nodded sadly. “My only boy. The Black Death took him. I wasn’t even there.”

     “I'm really sorry Will,” Molly told the writer softly. Her earlier anger had been completely replaced by quiet sympathy.

     “It made me question everything.” Shakespeare explained quietly. “The futility of this fleeting existence. To be or not to be...” He paused as he thought over what he'd just said. “Oh, that’s quite good.”

     “You should write that down,” the Doctor told him with a slight, knowing smirk.

     The writer thought about it for a moment. “Hm, maybe not. A bit pretentious?”

     The Doctor gave a sort of shrug, but before he could reply, the warden's voice came from further down the hall. “This way, m'lord!”

     Struggling to ignore the cries of the patients locked up around them, the three followed the hallway until they reached the cell the warden stood by. As the man unlocked the door for them, he warned, “They can be dangerous, m’lord. Don’t know their own strength.”

     The Doctor felt his earlier fury burning again. This man was talking about the patients as though they weren't even human, like they were mindless beasts to be locked up for sport. He made no effort to contain his anger as he snapped, “I think it helps if you don’t whip them! Now get out!”

     With a reproachful look, the warden retreated, locking the cell door behind him before slinking off. The Doctor sincerely hoped he didn't ever meet the foul human again – for the warden's sake. He might not be able to control himself so well next time.

     Forcing his temper back under control, the Time Lord turned away from the cell to look at the figure hunched over on the floor of the cell. Peter Streete sat with his head hanging facing the cell wall, muttering to himself. The Doctor felt a rush of pity for the man; how long had he been kept prisoner among the screams of mad men? Torture and screams were his lot now, and that was only after he'd been driven mad by unknown aliens.

     The Time Lord approached the man slowly, not wanting to alarm the poor man. He came around to stand before him, slowly crouching down to his lever. “Peter?” he asked softly. “Peter Streete?”

     “He’s the same as he was,” Shakespeare said sadly. “You’ll get nothing out of him.”

     He ignored the writer's words and reached out to put a hand on Peter's shoulder. “Peter?” At his touch, the man jerked his head up, his pale eyes wide and glazed over with terror. His lips quivered slightly, as though he wanted to speak, but could not find the words.

     The Time Lord put both hands on the man's face, which was all the contact he needed to form a telepathic link. His mind probed gently at Peter's, softly as he could manage, as he worked to soothe the man's terror. He felt Peter relax slightly in his grasp, and the terror in his mind receded somewhat, enough to let him listen. “Peter, I’m the Doctor,” he told him in a clear, careful tone. “Go into the past, one year ago. Let your mind go back, back to when everything was fine and shining. Everything that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just a story. A winter’s tale. Let go. Listen.” He could feel Peter's mind slowly detaching from the event, rewriting it so it had happened to someone else. “That’s it,” he encouraged, “just let go.”

     He helped settle the man down on his ragged little cot. “Tell me the story, Peter,” he probed gently. “Tell me about the witches.”

     After giving the Doctor a final, fearful glance, Peter began his story in a dull tone. “Witches spoke to Peter,” he said flatly. “In the night, they whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their design.  _Their_  design! The fourteen walls — always fourteen. When the work was done...” he gave a little high-pitched laugh. “They snapped poor Peter’s wits.” He began to giggle, a sharp sound that screamed _wrong_.

     The Doctor knew he was losing Peter. “Where did Peter see the witches?” he asked urgently. “Where in the city?” He crouched down beside the man, desperate to get his attention back. “Peter, tell me. You've got to tell me where were they?”

     “All Hallows Street,” the poor man whispered.

     “Too many words!” A high-pitched voice suddenly cried.

     The Doctor whirled around to see a creature much like a witch crouching beside him. He backed up to stand before his companions, instinctively shielding them. The creature wasn't one he had seen before, and had a dusty, wrinkled face with a hooked nose and wild hair. The image of a witch. He heard Molly gasp in recognition behind him.

     The creature reached a knobby, wrinkled hand towards a whimpering Peter. “Just one touch of the heart,” she cackled.

     Too late, he realized what she was about to do. “No!” Her hand touched Peter's chest, and the man let out a scream of agony before slumping back, dead. The Doctor closed his eyes for a moment. Another person he couldn't save.

     Behind him, he heard Shakespeare mutter, “Witch! I’m seeing a witch!” Molly said nothing; a small part of his wonderfully complex and compartmentilized brain wondered how she was faring.

     The witch-creature rose to her feet. “Who would be next, hmm? Just one touch.” She advanced menacingly towards the Doctor and his companions. “Oh, oh, I’ll stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals,” she spat.

     Molly took a few steps to stand right behind the Doctor. In a surprisingly composed tone she asked, “Doctor, what do we do?”

     “I'll figure something out,” he promised in a low tone.

     The witch peered out at them with cruel, wizened eyes. “Who will die first, hmm?” she asked, licking her lips in anticipation.

     The Doctor made a quick decision. “Well,” he said as he stepped forward, “if you're looking for volunteers...”

     “Doctor, don't!” Molly cried fearfully, but Shakespeare put a hand on her shoulder, holding her back.

     “Can you stop her?” the writer asked quietly.

     Before the Doctor could respond, the witch-creature let out a scornful cackle. “No mortal has power over me!”

     “Oh, but there’s a power in words,” the Doctor reasoned coolly, gaze evaluating the witch. “If I can find the right one — if I can just know you...”

     “None on Earth has knowledge of us!” the witch snapped sharply, eyes fixed on the Doctor.

     “Then it’s a good thing I’m here,” the Time Lord stated coolly. “Now think, think, think...” He started in on his usual babble, trying to buy time and puzzle it out, getting faster and faster as he got closer. “Humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy... ah, fourteen! That’s it! Fourteen! The fourteen stars of the Rexel planetary configuration!” He glared triumphantly at the witch. “Creature, I name you Carrionite!”

     The carrionite stiffed, letting out a wail of rage before fading from sight. The Doctor glared mercilessly at the spot where it had vanished, still feeling the rage from Peter's treatment and pointless death.

     Slowly, Molly approached her guide. “What did you do to it?” she asked quietly.

     “I named her,” the Doctor explained, still staring at that one spot. “The power of a name.” He turned back to Molly as he stated, “That’s old magic.”

     Molly looked confused. “But you said there's no such thing as magic, that it was science,” she pointed out.

     “Well it is, you lot just like to call it magic,” the Doctor defended himself. “It's just another form of science. Humans, you chose mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom.  Carrionites use words instead.”

     “Use them for what?” Shakespeare asked seriously.

     The Time Lord turned to him with a grim expression. “The end of the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's more of the Shakespeare Code for you. And yes, this episode is now looking to be about four chapters long. I'm really, really hoping it doesn't hit five chapters. Yikes, is that how long every episode is going to be?
> 
> Anyway, I just realized I haven't addressed something - Molly's lack of crush on the Doctor. I just want to point out now that I have absolutely nothing against Martha. She's clever, brave, completely badass, and I don't blame her one bit for falling for the Doctor. I mean, he swooped in, kissed her, and showed her the stars. Can't really blame her for that. But I felt like Molly's relationship with the Doctor would be different in several ways. One, she's already got a major crush on Sherlock, so I didn't feel like there'd be room for another one for the Doctor. And I don't think theirs would be a romantic relationship anyway. However, Molly isn't as bold or confident as Martha, so that changes things, and she's far more emotionally aware and sympathetic. That'll end up influencing a lot later.


	7. The Shakespeare Code: Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, Molly, and Shakespeare rush to stop the carrionites.

     Back in Shakespeare's room at the tavern, the writer was leaning over a bucket and splashing cold water into his face, clearly trying to get through their earlier meeting with the carrionite. Molly watched as the Doctor paced, something she was recognizing to be a common occurrence with him, and explained, “The Carrionites disappeared way back at the dawn of the universe. Nobody was sure if they were real or legend.”

     Shakespeare straightened and turned to face the Time Lord. “Well, I'm going for real,” he remarked with a slight edge to his tone as he began patting his face dry with a towel.

     “Alright,” Molly said, trying to keep things logical in her head, “Now we know what they are, but what are they after? They use words, so it  _is_ connected to the play, but how? What's it all for?”

     “A new empire on Earth,” the Doctor replied grimly. “A world of bones and blood and witchcraft.”

     “But how?” Molly prompted.

     “Well, it's his play,” the Doctor said wryly, turning to look at Shakespeare. He'd stopped pacing and was leaning against one of the tables.

     “I told you, I've done nothing,” Shakespeare insisted.

     Molly had been running through the previous night's events in her head when something occurred to her. “Wait. What were you doing last night when Dolly came in?”

     Shakespeare shrugged. “Finishing the play.” Molly frowned. The play. It always came back to the play.

     The Doctor's brow furrowed as though something had occurred to him. Turning towards the writer he asked, “What happens on the last page?”

     “The boys get the girls. They have a bit of a dance. It’s all as funny and thought provoking as usual...” He suddenly trailed off, realization dawning on his face. “...except those last few lines. Funny thing is... I don’t actually remember writing them.”

     “That’s it!” The Doctor pushed off his table, too excited to stay still. “They used you. They gave you the final words. Like a spell, like a code. 'Love’s Labours Won' — it’s a weapon! The right combination of words, spoken at the right place with the shape of the Globe as an energy converter! You were right, Molly, the play’s the thing!” He turned and started out the room, throwing a quick “And yes, you can have that,” over his shoulder.

     The Time Lord soon returned with a map of London and laid it out on Shakespeare's table. They all looked over it, carefully scanning, until the Doctor apparently found what he was looking for. “All Hallows Street.” He pointed to the small line on the map. “There it is. Molly, we’ll track them down. Will, you get to the Globe. Whatever you do, stop that play!”

     “I’ll do it,” the writer declared confidently. He reached out and shook the Doctor's hand, admiration evident in his tone. “All these years I’ve been the cleverest man around. Next to you, I know nothing. It’s marvelous. Good luck, Doctor.”

     The Doctor smiled. “Good luck, Shakespeare.” He headed for the door, Molly following as he declared, “Once more unto the breach!”

     Behind them, they could hear Shakespeare musing, “I like that. Wait a minute... that’s one of mine.”

     The Doctor turned back to face the author for a moment. “Oh, just shift!” he urged. Then he and Molly started off again, determined to find the witch’s' house.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Molly kept pace with the Doctor as they hurried through the busy streets, finally reaching their destination. “All Hallows Street,” the Doctor said as he scanned the area, “but which house?”  
     Molly had been thinking about something for a while. “Doctor, I was wondering... You're saying the carrionites want to destroy the human race, but this is 1599, and we've already seen that the human race is still around in 2012. So does that mean it's already determined that we stop them today?”

     The Doctor rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed the question had come in the middle of their search. “Oh, how to explain the mechanics of the infinite temporal flux?” He suddenly snapped his fingers. “I know! 'Back to the Future'! It’s like 'Back to the Future!'”

     “The movie?”

     The Time Lord rolled his eyes. “No, the novelization. Yes, the film! Marty McFly goes back and changes history.”

     Molly hadn't seen the movie in years, but she remembered enough to understood what he meant. “So the future can be changed?” she realized.

     “Yes.” The Doctor turned to look at her, urgency mixed with concern. “Time is in constant flux; almost anything can be rewritten. Including you. Your existence and that of the entire future of the human race. It ends right now in 1599 if we don’t stop it.” He turned back to his search of the many houses on the street. “But which house?” he asked with frustration.

     Without warning, the door to one of the houses slowly swung open. The Doctor stared at it in surprise for a few moments. “Ah, make that  _witch_ house,” he quipped, eyebrows going up in surprise.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Inside the house, a familiar young, red-headed woman stood, watching them enter with a knowing smirk. Molly recognized her as one of the maids from the tavern, Lilith if she remembered correctly. Before she had been fairly non-descript, but now she watched them without a hint of apprehension, eyes cold and cruel.

     “I take it we're expected,” the Doctor remarked lightly. Molly noticed that while he seemed as cordial and goofy as ever, the Time Lord had tensed noticeably, his gaze calculating as it darted around the room. He seemed more dangerous now that she'd seen him before, now that they were facing the one behind Peter's death.

     “Oh, I think Death has been waiting for you a very long time,” Lilith told him.

     Molly wondered if the Doctor planned to name her again; she didn't do it herself because she wasn't certain it was the right thing to do at the time. She trusted the Doctor to have a plan, and when she was sure what it was she would follow it to the letter.

     The Doctor folded his hands behind his back, bouncing forward on the balls of his feet. “Well, nice set-up you got here,” he quipped, looking around the dusty old house with interest. A cauldron sat in the center of the room, with various relics and talismans scattered around. “If a bit cliché,” he added as an afterthought.

     “A bit like yourself,” the carrionite observed smoothly. “The wise old man, swooping in to beat the wicked old witch.” She chuckled lightly, somehow sounding as cruel as her fellow's cackle. “You think just because you know us that you can beat us? Naming only works once, Doctor. It cannot kill us; the same cannot be said of you and your companion.”

     She suddenly whirled to face Molly. “For instance,  _to put her in an endless stupor, I name this woman Molly Hooper._ ”

     Molly suddenly felt her limbs go weak. The pathologist caught a quick glance of the fear on Doctor's face, and felt a thrill of her own fear, before her legs gave out. She slumped gracelessly to the floor as a black wave crashed over her vision.

     Voices flitted in and out of her subconscious. The Doctor, panicked. “ _What did you do to her?!_ ” The carrionite: “ _Only sleeping, alas..._ ”

     “ _...no name..._ ”

     “ _...carries down the distant Rose..._ ”

     “ _...that name keeps me fighting!_ ”

     “ _...purged as pestilence..._ ”

     “ _...you'll have to get past me..._ ”

     Molly groaned as she returned to consciousness. She felt groggy and sort of heavy, like her entire body was being weighed down, but she had strength enough to lift her head. She could see the carrionite floating in a spot past the window, the Doctor watching her with frustration. The creature appeared to be holding some sort of doll, like one of those voodoo dolls used to control people. In her other hand she held a needle, which set off several warning bells in Molly's head, but at the moment there was nothing she could do.

     The Doctor was doing his usual trick of trying to babble out explanations to buy time. “Now, you might call that magic... I’d call that a DNA replication module.”

     Lilith raised an eyebrow. “What use is your science now?” she asked smugly. She stabbed the doll in the heart, eyes flashing cruelly. The Doctor let out a cry of agony, hand clutching at his chest, before collapsing on the ground.

     The carrionite let out a triumphant cackle before flying away, the window slamming shut behind her. As the life returned to Molly's limbs, she scrambled to get to the Doctor's side, heart pounding in fear. He was just lying there, motionless, but she didn't think he was dead. Lilith had stopped the Doctor's heart... wait, heart? “Hold up, two hearts,” she remembered aloud.

     A small smirk twitched at the Doctor's lips. “You’re making a habit of this,” he joked lightly. He got quickly to his feet, but with a cry of pain he fell back to his knees, helped by Molly, who supported him by his arm. “I've only got one heart working,” he gasped out, face screwed up in pain. He turned briefly to Molly, almost accusing as he asked, “How do you people cope?” Without waiting for an answer, he groaned, ”I’ve got to get the other one started. Hit me! Hit me on the chest!”

     The pathologist obliged hesitantly, prying another cry of pain from the Time Lord. “Other side!” he complained. With a few more instructions (On the back! On the back! Left a bit!) she finally got the right spot. The Doctor bounced back to his feet with a “Ba-da-boom-ba!” giving Molly a grin. “Well, what are you standing there for? Come one! The Globe!”

     The two left the witches' house behind, hurrying back towards the famed theater.

**SCENEBREAK**

     They finally reached the Globe again, after a bit of confused navigation. Dark clouds were gathering over the theater, with strange red lightning crashing overhead. People were running in terror from the sight, all except the old doom-claiming priest from earlier, who was shrieking, “I told thee so!” with a disproportionate amount of glee.

     The Doctor and Molly ignored him, staring instead at the theater. The main doors were clearly locked, as no one seemed to be trying to get out that way, so how to get in?

     The Time Lord soon found the answer. “Stage door!” he called out to Molly as they started to push past the fleeing crowd.

     When they finally managed to get in through the backstage doors, they found Shakespeare leaning back in a chair, rubbing the back of his head. The Doctor glared at him in annoyance. “Stop the play! I think that was it. Yeah, I said, 'Stop the play!'”

     “I hit my head,” the writer said lamely.

     “Yeah, don’t rub it, you’ll go bald,” the Doctor snarked. Screams sounded from out front, causing him to quip, “I think that’s my cue!” before running out on stage. Molly and Shakespeare followed, halting behind him as they stared in horror at the scene around them. A swarm of carrionite was circling above the stage, the steady roar of thunder and wind following them. Molly could hardly hear herself think over the noise. People were pointing up at the aliens in horror, trying to push past the doors to escape, but in vain. The carrionites were rising up through a dark hole, flying above the building and out into the night. Molly knew that if they didn't do something soon, it would all be over.

     The Doctor pulled Shakespeare up to the front of the stage, despite the author's protests. “Come on, Will! History needs you!”

     “But what can I do?” the writer shouted above the thunderous noise.

     “Reverse it!”

     “How am I supposed to do that?”

     “The shape of the Globe gives words power,” the Doctor explained rapidly, “but you’re the wordsmith, the one true genius. The only man clever enough to do it!”

     “But what words?” Shakespeare asked. It was the first time Molly had seen him look unsure. “I have none ready!”

     “You’re William Shakespeare!” the Doctor reminded him.

     The writer backed up slightly as he said, “But these Carrionite phrases, the need such precision!”

     The Doctor pushed him forward again. “Trust yourself. When you’re locked away in your room, the words just come, don’t they? Like magic. Words of the right sound, the right shape, the right rhythm — words that last forever! That’s what you do, Will! You choose perfect words. Do it. Improvise!”

     The words seemed to give Shakespeare confidence, at least as much as he needed. With a final glance at the Doctor, he turned to face the swarm of carrionite and shouted defiantly, “Close up this den of hateful, dire decay! Decomposition of your witches’ plot! You thieve my brains, consider me your toy. My doting Doctor tells me I am not!” A shriek rose from somewhere in the dark cloud of energy, giving Molly hope that their plan was working. “Foul Carrionite spectres, cease your show! Between the points...”

     He turned back to the Doctor, who supplied “7-6-1-3-9-0!” drawing from the last lines of the play.

     “7-6-1-3-9-0!” Shakespeare repeated with a roar. “And banished like a tinker’s cuss, I say to thee...”

     Stuck again, he turned back to the Doctor, who gave a helpless shrug. Molly scrambled her brain for a word that would fit, finally remembering her and the Doctor's earlier conversation about Harry Potter. “Expelliarmus!” she finally suggested.

     “Expelliarmus!” Shakespeare finished triumphantly as the Doctor shouted gleefully, “Good ol' JK!”

     The dark cloud that before had seemed to be the source of the Carrionite's power now began sucking them up like a tornado. Papers from the stage flew up into the air, getting sucked up into the dark vortex along with the aliens. “Love Labour's Won,” the Doctor realized aloud. “There it goes.”

     After a few moments, the cloud sucked itself in, disappearing completely, taking the strong, noisy winds with it. A relieved silence fell over the theater, broken only when the audience began applauding.

     Molly blinked in shock as, one by one, the crowd rose to give them a standing ovation. “They think it was all part of the play,” she realized. “Special effects or something.”

     “Your effect is special indeed,” Shakespeare quipped with the return of his charming smile. Molly found the line to be more forced than his others, but she couldn’t help but grin with relief as the audience cheered on. They’d saved the theater, and by extension the entire human race. Not bad for her first trip.

**SCENEBREAK**

     “…and I say, a heart for a hart and a dear for a deer.” Shakespeare finished, chuckling a little at his own joke.

     Molly shrugged a little helplessly. “Er, sorry, I don’t get it.” The two were sitting on a bench onstage after the play, alone since the audience and the actors had left and the Doctor had gone to take care of the trapped carrionites.

     “Then give me a joke from Freedonia,” Shakespeare prompted.

     Molly shook her head quickly. “Sorry, I don’t really know any good jokes. I’m rubbish at them anyway.”

     “Ah, Miss Hooper, you must learn to have more confidence. Throw yourself into things without thinking first. The best performances always come when the actor has the confidence to improvise.”

     The pathologist blushed at his advice, but before she could respond, the Doctor emerged from backstage with an animal skull in one hand and a Elizabethan collar ruff around his neck. “Good props store back there! I’m not sure about this though,” he added as he looked at the skull. “Reminds me of a Sycorax.”

     The writer grinned at the Time Lord. “Sycorax. Nice word. I’ll have that off you as well.”

     “I should be on 10%,” the Doctor said wryly. “How’s your head?”

     “Still aching.”

     The Doctor removed the neck ruff and handed it to the writer. “Here, I got you this. Neck brace.” Shakespeare took it gratefully and fastened it around his own neck. With the simple addition, he suddenly looked a lot more like his portraits, with the bonus of hair. “Wear that for a few days till it’s better, although you might wanna keep it. It suits you.”

     “What about the play?” Molly asked curiously.

     “Gone,” the Doctor replied. “I looked all over — every single copy of 'Love’s Labours' Won went up in the sky.”

     Shakespeare sighed. “My lost masterpiece,” he said a little wistfully.

     “You could write it up again,” Molly encouraged lightly.

     Before Shakespeare could respond, the Time Lord shook his head quickly. “Yeah, better not, Will. There’s still power in those words. Maybe it should best stay forgotten.”

     The writer nodded, then smiled. “Oh, but I’ve got new ideas. Perhaps it’s time I wrote about fathers and sons. In memory of my boy — my precious Hamnet.”

     Molly blinked in surprise. “Hamnet?

     “That’s him,” Shakespeare confirmed.

     “Ham-Net?”

     The writer narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong with that?”

     The Doctor swooped in quick to save Molly from any awkward response. “Anyway, time we were off. I’ve got a nice attic in the TARDIS where this lot,” he quickly held up the crystal where the three original carrionites were trapped, “can scream for all eternity and I’ve gotta take Molly back to Freedonia.”

     “You mean travel on through time and space,” Shakespeare corrected smugly.

     Both Molly and the Doctor stared at the playwright in absolute shock. Even the Doctor was momentarily struck dumb for several moments before managing a weak, “You what?”

     “You’re from another world like the Carrionites and Molly is from the future,” the writer explained with amusement. “It’s not hard to work out.”

     The Time Lord gaped at the man for several moments before breaking out into a huge, giddy grin. “That’s... incredible. You are incredible.” Molly held back a chuckle at his fanboy behavior.

     Shakespeare gave the alien a knowing smirk. “We’re alike in many ways, Doctor.” He turned back to Molly and said, “Molly, let me say goodbye to you in a new verse. A sonnet for my lady of the future.” Molly sucked in a shocked breath as Shakespeare began reciting the familiar, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate—“

     The playwright was interrupted when two of the actors from before burst in. “Will! Will!” one of them panted out, excited and exhausted from running in turn. “You’ll never believe it! She’s here! She’s turned up!”

     “We’re the talk of the town,” the other actor added. “She heard about last night! She wants us to perform it again.”

     “Who?” Molly asked with confusion.

     “Her Majesty!” the actor explained with excitement. “She’s here!”

     Before Molly could ask if that meant what she thought it did, fanfare sounded from outside. The Doctor bounded to Molly’s side, almost as excited as he’d been when he met Shakespeare. “Queen Elizabeth I!” he whispered excitedly.

     A rather unremarkable woman with a very puffy dress and enough make-up to make her look like a ghost entered the globe. She wore a royal, haughty look from the start, but when she noticed the Time Lord and his companion, it slowly transformed into a look of rage. “Doctor!” she hissed hoarsely.

     The Doctor furrowed his brow in confusion. “What?”

     “My sworn enemy!” the queen added with more heat.

     “What?”

     “Off with his head!” Queen Elizabeth shrieked.

     “ _What_?!”

     Molly could see the Doctor was a little stuck, so she grabbed his hand and yanked him towards the TARDIS. They ran together as a soldier yelled behind them, “Stop, in the name of the queen!”

     “What did you do to piss her off?” Molly asked as they neared the blue box.

     “How should I know?” the Doctor asked defensively. “Haven’t even met her yet. That’s time travel for you! Still, can’t wait to find out.” As they reached the TARDIS, the Doctor hurriedly unlocked the door to let himself and his companion in, pausing at the door a moment to get a last look at Elizabethan London before yanking the door shut with a squeak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's the end of "The Shakespeare Code" then. "Gridlock" should hopefully be shorter, since I'm mostly just going to be in Molly's POV, since we already know what happens in the Doctor's POV.
> 
> I'm also going to be writing a short little interlude between this episode and the next. Molly has a few things she needs to think about, and I want to show that.


	8. Interlude One: Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly reflects on meeting Shakespeare

     A few hours after their interesting escape from Queen Elizabeth I, Molly finally ventured out of her room and into the TARDIS’s hallways. She’d asked the resident Time Lord earlier where the library was, but she still took a few wrong turns before finally finding the right room.

     The TARDIS library was huge, with bookcases that stretched far over Molly’s head, towards glass ceiling that showered the library in artificial sunlight. This was probably the most beautiful room Molly had ever seen in the TARDIS – the Doctor clearly had a passion for reading.

     As Molly picked through the bookshelves in search of what she’d come for, she thought over the day’s events. Saving the world from aliens, fighting witches with William Shakespeare, changing history, or preserving it, they’d done it all in two days. The Doctor had been excited, sure, but he’d acted like this happened every day for him. She’d known going in it was going to be dangerous. But realizing the extent of how bizzare and fragile the Doctor’s life was both excited her and frightened her. She’d met an amazing man today, walked among people who’d been dead for years and years, had a world-famous sonnet written in her name. Her, little Molly Hooper who lived her life in others’ shadows. It was nothing short of amazing.

     But it was also incredibly dangerous. If anything had gone wrong today, the whole human race would’ve been destroyed. She would have faded out of existence, and so would have everyone she’d ever met. It was terrifying to realize the existence of the world she’d known was so incredibly fragile.

     Fear was only part of what she was feeling. It was mostly excitement and joy, and no short measure of curiousity. She knew the Doctor better now than she had when this whole companion thing had started, but there was still so much the Time Lord didn’t say. There was one thing she’d gleaned from the day’s events; Rose, who’d he’d mentioned earlier, had meant a lot to him. She’d guessed that when he’d mentioned her the first time, but after the carrionite had knocked her out, she’d heard the name Rose, and she’d heard the pain and loss in his voice when he’d said, “That name keeps me fighting!” She didn’t know for sure, but she had a feeling he might have loved Rose, just from the way he’d said her name, and the way he’d reacted to hearing it. Molly might have been awkward and fumbling in conversation, but she was good at reading others. The Doctor was clearly in pain, and losing Rose seemed to be the cause of it.

     She’d have to find out later exactly who Rose was and who she’d been to him, and where she was now. There wasn’t a lot she could do for herself and her own pitiful crush on Sherlock, but if there was any way to help the Doctor, he would.

     These heavy thoughts were chased away as Molly finally found what she was looking for. Smiling, she pulled the book from the shelf, respectful of the book’s fragility in age. Several comfy chairs and cushions lay directly under the artificial sunlight; Molly chose one and snuggled in, basking in the warmth of the sunlight and fond memories as she flipped through a book of Shakspeare’s sonnets, finally finding the one he’d begun reciting that afternoon. “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's the short interlude I promised. Short, like I said.
> 
> Molly's picking up on the Rose hints just like Martha, but unlike her she's interested in helping the Doctor get through it. Again, not saying Martha's a bad person for feeling jealous. See my previous rant on the matter if you wish.
> 
> As for the Shakespeare sonnet... oh come on. Tell me in all seriousness, that if William Freaking Shakespeare wrote a famous sonnet about you, that you would not memorize the shit out of that sonnet. I don't care whether you're a Shakespeare fan or not. It's William Freaking Shakespeare.


	9. Gridlock: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Molly visit New New York.

     “So, we’ve done one trip in the past,” the Doctor recounted as he started up the TARDIS flight sequence again, “so how about a trip to the future?”

     “Works for me!” Molly agreed easily.

     It was the day after their venture into Elizabethan London. Well, a sleep after. Molly wasn’t quite sure how time worked on the TARDIS, since they spent most of their time hurtling through the Time Vortex.

     The Doctor was winding up some sort of lever, dashing around to flip a switch. The dance to fly the TARDIS still baffled her, but she found it amusing regardless. The Time Lord grinned at her over the console and proposed, “How about a different planet?”

     “Can we go to yours?” Molly asked curiously. She wanted to know more about the Doctor, and returning to his home planet would offer the best way to do that.

     The Doctor froze, his eyes suddenly looking far older than Molly had ever seen them before. His expression switched quickly back to his customary grin, but it didn’t seem to hold the same warmth. “Ah, there’s plenty of other places.”

     That had clearly hit some kind of nerve. Molly didn’t want to upset him, but she wanted to know more so she could help, so she asked, “What’s it like though? I mean, we don’t have to go there if you don’t want, obviously, but what’s it like there?”

     The Time Lord’s expression grew wistful as he thought. Several moments of silence passed before he finally began his description. In a low voice, he told her, “The sky’s a burnt orange, with the Citadel enclosed in a mighty glass dome, shining under the twin suns. Beyond that, the mountains go on forever. Slopes of deep red grass, capped with snow.”

     Molly listened with awe, trying to imagine it in her head but knowing she could never come close to what the Doctor was seeing in his. “It sounds beautiful,” she said a little wistfully.

     “Yeah,” the Doctor replied quietly. “Yeah, it is.” There was something so heartbreakingly sad in his expression for a few moments. Molly didn’t dare ask what had happened; maybe he had been exiled, maybe the planet had been captured in war, but whatever it was, it was clear the Doctor held no hope of ever seeing that burnt orange sky again.

     She couldn’t ask him about it again, not if it hurt him that much, but if she at least had a name, she could find out what she could from other sources. “What’s it called?” She asked quietly.

     The Doctor was quiet for several moments, leaving Molly afraid he wouldn’t answer at all. “Gallifrey,” he finally said. There was a certain reverence in the way he said it that left Molly almost certain of her theory.

     After a few more moments of silence, Molly decided to change the subject. “So, you said something about other planets?”

     The Doctor snapped out of his solemn mood, the goofy grin returning. “Right! Other planets, way better than going home. Let’s see… year five billion and fifty-three, planet New Earth. Second hope of mankind. Fifty thousand light years from your old world, and we're slap bang in the middle of New New York.” He tilted his head thoughtfully for a moment before adding, “Although, technically it's the fifteenth New York from the original, so it's New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York. One of the most dazzling cities ever built.”

     Molly couldn’t help but be awed just at the idea. “Five  _billion_  years in the future?” The idea seemed so absurd. Visiting a few hundred years in the future, or even a thousand was somewhat easier to imagine what it might be like. But five billion years? The human race could have evolved into beach balls for all she could guess. The difference between 1599 and 2012 had been odd enough; she had no idea what to expect from this vastly distant future. “What’s it like? I mean, what are humans like now? Do we look any different or anything?”

     The Time Lord chuckled at her obvious awe. “Nah, you lot always look about the same. Earth’s gone, sun burned it up a few years ago, so no humans left there, but the human race has spread itself out to every star at this point. Now what are you asking me for?” Without warning, he threw down the final lever, and the TARDIS began shaking and shuddering its way through time again. With a slight squeak of surprise, Molly’s torso was thrown down onto the console. She managed to grab hold for dear life as the TARDIS bumped its way through the rest of the trip. When the ship finally stilled, the Doctor hurried over to the door and turned back to face Molly. “Come see for yourself!

     More excited than she’d admitted to even herself, the pathologist hurried past the console and to the front door. She pulled it open, eager to see the glorious sights the Doctor had been talking about, only to be greeted by a dank, narrow alley and a face full of rain. She raised her hands over her head, turning to look at the Doctor. He had locked the TARDIS door and didn’t even seem to notice the rain. “Bad morning?” she inquired, hoping this wasn’t the norm for the great planet he’d described.

     “Nah, bit of rain never hurt anyone,” the Doctor said dismissively. “Come on, let's get under cover!” A hand on Molly’s shoulder, he started hurrying towards an overhanging roof.

     They kept going until they found themselves in a slightly larger alley, where several large green metal bins, almost like dumpsters, were lined up. The Doctor led her over to a screen on the wall. “Hang on.” He shined his sonic screwdriver at it for a moment until it turned on. A blond woman appeared on screen with a little icon of the statue of liberty in the back. Molly was surprised at the familiarity of it; it seemed just like a news report back home. The blond woman was saying, “ _...and the driving should be clear and easy, with fifteen extra lanes open for the New New Jersey expressway._ ”

     The screen cut to a clip of a wide, grassy cliff overlooking a vast stretch of water. In the distance Molly could see a city far larger than any she'd seen before, and some sort of spaceship hovered in the foreground. It looked beautiful, far better than the alley they'd found themselves in.

     “Oh, that's more like it,” the Doctor said appreciatively, tapping at the screen to make his point. “That's the view we had last time.” He turned back to look assessingly at the alley. “This must be the lower levels, down in the base of the tower. Some sort of under-city.”

     “I suppose there's not a chance we could re-park the TARDIS?” Molly asked without much hope.

     The Doctor shook his head with the cheeky grin Molly had been expecting. “Nah, where's the fun in that? You can't get the amazing stuff all the time. Besides, this is much more interesting. It's all cocktails and glitter up there. This is the real city.”

     Molly fought the urge to roll her eyes.  _That man would enjoy anything,_  she thought fondly. Aloud, she asked, “Alright, so if this is the 'real city,' then where is everyone?”

     “Hmm... that is a good question.” The Doctor looked around more critically now, frowning slightly. “This time of day, should at least be someone out.”

     “Maybe it's one of those bad parts of town no one wants to go through,” Molly suggested. The Doctor just shrugged distractedly in response. As the silence continued, the pathologist thought of something. “Doctor, you said 'we' came here earlier. Who'd you mean?”

     The Doctor's smile faded a bit. “Rose. It was me and Rose.” He shook his head, then turned to Molly with a goofy grin, as though to turn his bad mood into a joke. “Had a bit of a run-in with some cats,” he joked lightly.

     Molly felt a pang of sympathy for the Doctor. He was taking her to the same places he'd taken Rose; clearly he was trying to hang on to the memory of her. She wanted to say something to comfort him, but she had no idea what to say, and besides, he had changed the subject.

     Before she could respond, a flap on the front of one of the green bins pushed outward. She realized what she'd earlier thought were dumpsters were shop fronts; the flap was held up by a thin green stick, and behind was a shop stall, with a smiling shopkeeper behind the counter. He looked surprised to see the Doctor and Molly standing there. “Oh! You should have said. How long you been there?” Without waiting for an answer, he dinged the bell that sat on the counter, pointing at the wares behind him. “Happy! You want Happy?”

     Before either of them could say anything, a call went out from one of the other stalls. “We've got customers!” Suddenly, all around them shops were opening their flaps, the shopkeepers yelling out their wares at the baffled travelers.

     “Happy! Lovely, lovely Happy!”

     “Anger! Buy some Anger!”

     “Get some Mellow!”

     “No thanks,” the Doctor told them with evident distaste.

     Molly looked at the display with disgust. “Are they selling drugs?” She was a pathologist – she'd seen first-hand what drugs could do to people. But in the future they were being sold at cheap street stalls?

     “I think they're selling moods,” the Doctor corrected.

     “Isn't that basically the same thing?”

     The Doctor didn't reply. Molly followed his gaze to see a young woman swathed in dark rags shuffling towards one of the stalls. The shopkeeper greeted her with a cheerful, “What can I get ya?”

     “I want to buy Forget,” she said in a dead tone, completely at odds with the over-cheerful shopkeeper. She had an air of heaviness to her.

     “I've got Forget, my darling,” the shopkeeper told her agreeably. “What strength? How much do you want forgetting?”

     The Doctor started to head closer, Molly following closely. They paused nearby as the woman hesitated before admitting, “It's my mother and father. They went on the motorway.”

     “Oh, that's a swine,” the shopkeeper said sympathetically. She turned to her stores, grabbed something off a lower shelf, then turned back to the girl. “Try this,” she said as she handed her a thin, circular patch. “Forget Forty three. That's two credits.” The woman handed her the money, then started to put the patch to her skin.

     The Doctor cut in before she could. “Sorry, but hold on a minute. What happened to your parents?”

     “They drove off,” the young woman told him mournfully.

     “Yeah, but they might drive back,” the Doctor said with confusion.

     She shook her head. “Everyone goes to the motorway in the end,” she told him gloomily. “I've lost them.”

     “But they can't have gone far. You could find them,” the Doctor insisted. Ignoring him, the woman went back to put the patch on her neck. “No. No, no, don't!” the Time Lord tried to stop her, but it was too late. With dazed, dreamy smile at odds with her earlier gloom, the girl turned back to the Doctor.

     “I'm sorry, what were you saying?” she asked pleasantly.

     “Your parents,” he reminded her firmly. “Your mother and father. They're on the motorway.”

     “Are they?” she asked dreamily. “That's nice. I'm sorry, I won't keep you.” With that, she turned and left.

     Molly shook her head with disgust. “So, five billion years in the future, and drugs are being sold in street shops and people can forget anything they want for a few quid.” She was a bit worked up about it, but as a doctor, it kind of sickened her.

     Before the Doctor could reply, a hand wrapped roughly over her mouth, an arm pulling around her waist. A man was pulling her back while a woman pointed a gun at the Doctor. The Time Lord was looking at them in surprise and horror. Molly struggled, crying out, but the sound was muffled by the man's hand. His grip was too strong to escape. “I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry,” the man apologized frantically as he pulled her back. “We just need three, that's all.”

     “No, let her go!” The Doctor tried to step forward, but the woman raised the gun, so all he could do was glare at them with frustration. “I'm warning you, let her go!” he growled. “Whatever you want, I can help. Both of us, we can help. But first you've got to let her go.”

     “I'm sorry. I'm really sorry,” the woman apologized. She and the man seemed more scared than her victims. The woman's gun hand shook as she pointed it at the Time Lord. “Sorry.”

     Before Molly knew it, they'd disappeared behind a door and were heading towards what looked like some kind of hovercar. Molly started struggling more violently now. She knew if they took her away in that, it'd be much harder to get back to the Doctor. She couldn't break free entirely, but she managed to shake free of the hand on her mouth. “Let me go! The Doctor can help you, he really can, just let me go first!”

     The man struggled to keep a hold on the struggled pathologist. “Give her some Sleep,” he told the woman.

     Molly stiffened when she saw the woman when she saw the woman holding one of those patches. “Oh no, keep that thing the hell away from me!” She began struggling violently, but the woman managed to press the patch to her neck. The energy began to drain from her, and only moments later she slumped unconscious against the man.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The pathologist couldn't tell how long had passed when she woke again, but the steady rumble of an engine told her she'd been brought on the hovercar. She wasn't exactly scared; the couple who'd taken her had seemed more desperate than dangerous. But she was worried about how she was going to get back to the Doctor.

     Molly opened her eyes to see the small interior of the hovercar. The man and woman from before were up front by the controls, sitting in the front seats. She appeared to have been laid out on some sort of bed in the back. There was an assortment of clutter on the bed beside her, including the gun the woman had threatened the Doctor with. She looked at it for a moment, considering, but in the end she decided against it. It was probably her best chance at getting them to take her back to the Doctor, but she just couldn’t use it, not even to threaten.

     Besides, the couple that had taken her had seemed pretty apologetic about the whole thing. They didn’t seem to want to hurt her, at any rate. Maybe talking to them would help.

     Molly got cautiously off the bed, making sure that patch hadn’t had any side effects other than instantaneous sleep. Satisfied that she felt fine now, the pathologist headed towards the front of the car.

     The woman turned to look at her when she approached. “Oh, you’re up,” she said with a forced grin.

     “Yeah,” Molly replied uncertainly. “No thanks to that bloody patch.”

     Guilt flashed in the woman’s eyes. “It was just a bit of Sleep 4.7. We didn’t want you hurting yourself struggling.”

     The pathologist crossed her arms to feel more comfortable. “Maybe a better idea would have been to not kidnap me?” she suggested.

     “I swear we're sorry. We're really, really sorry,” the woman insisted earnestly. “We just needed access to the fast line, but I promise, as soon as we arrive, we'll drop you off and you can go back and find your friend.”

     Molly was surprised. Just like that, they were letting her go? “Really?”

     The woman nodded eagerly. “I swear. Look,” she pointed at a patch on her neck, “honesty patch.

     The man turned to face her now. “I’m Milo, and this is Cheen. What’s your name?”

     She hesitated a few moments before revealing, “Molly Hooper.” Curiosity began to win out over caution. Coming to stand behind their seats, she tried to see out the front window, but some sort of fog was blocking the view. “Y’know, if you’d needed help, you should have just asked.”

     Milo shook his head sadly. “No one comes to the motorway without bringing family and friends along. There’s no one left to ask.”

     “Is that where we are? The motorway? I heard it mentioned before.”

     Cheen nodded. “Yeah. You need three adults on board to get access to the fast lane, which is where we’re trying to go.”

     “We're going out to Brooklyn,” Milo explained. “Everyone says the air's so much cleaner, and we couldn't stay in Pharmacy Town, because…” he trailed off with a smile at Cheen.

     The woman blushed. “Well, because of me. I'm pregnant,” she explained gleefully to Molly. “We only discovered it last week. Scan says it's going to be a boy.”

     Molly gave her a genuine smile. “Congratulations.” Against her better judgment, she’d already forgiven the two for kidnapping her. She’d be back to the Doctor soon anyway, and there was no harm done. Besides, they seemed so sweet.

     Cheen smiled back. “Thanks.”

     Milo turned back to the controls, looking up at the foggy window. “This'll be as fast as we can. We'll take the motorway to the Brooklyn flyover, and then after that it's going to take awhile, because then there's no fast lane, just ordinary roads, but at least it's direct.”

     “It’s only ten miles,” Milo added.

      _That isn’t much at all,_  Molly thought with surprise. “How long will that take then?”

     “About six years,” Cheen said dreamily.

     Molly couldn’t help but gape at them in shock. She was sure she’d heard them wrong. “How long again?”

     “Six years,” Cheen repeated, rubbing her stomach fondly. “Just in time for him to start school.”

     The pathologist was trying to get the idea through her head. Six years. Six years to drive ten miles. She could drive that distance in ten minutes. Either technology had devolved over time instead of getting better, or something was really, really wrong. The type of wrong the Doctor specializied in fixing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Gridlock begins. Hopefully this one will be only two/three parts, since I'm sticking to Molly's POV throughout.


	10. Gridlock: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly, Cheen, and Milo try to get to the Fast Lane.

     Molly watched as Milo drove the car down the lanes, which were barely visible through the fog. “How can you see where you’re driving with all that out there?” she asked curiously.

     “This display here shows all the cars in proximity,” Cheen explained. “Has to, ‘cause no one can see from all the gas exhaust.” She looked back at Molly with surprise. “Haven’t you ever been in a hovercar before?”

     The pathologist shook her head. “I’m new in town,” she explained. Well, it wasn’t a lie. Her earlier conversation with the Doctor occurred to her again. “Hey, Cheen? Have you ever heard of a planet called Gallifrey?”

     The woman frowned. “Sorry, no.”

     “What about Time Lords?” she pressed. “Have you heard of them?”

     Both Milo and Cheen shook their heads. “No, never. Why?” Milo asked curiously.

     Molly covered her disappointment. “Nevermind. It’s just something the Doctor said.”

     “You mean that man you were traveling with, your friend?”

     Molly wasn’t quite sure if she qualified as the Doctor’s friend; she was more his helper. She was used to being friends to people who didn’t consider her friends back. It was fine, really. Sherlock had made her more than used to it, and she hadn’t really had much in the way of friends before she’d met him anyway. But there wasn’t any way to explain that to Milo and Cheen, so she simply agreed, “Yeah, that’s him.”

     Cheen gave a slightly knowing smile. “Are you and he…?”

     “Oh no, not at all,” Molly assured her quickly. That much of their relationship she was sure about. “No, I’ve got a boyfriend back home, Jim.” She felt a pang of uncertainty. “Well, I say boyfriend, but we’ve only gone out a few times.”

     “So what are you doing out with that Doctor fellow then?” Cheen asked curiously.

     Molly shrugged. “He saved my life, and a thousand other people’s, so I decided to journey with him. He’s brilliant, he is. He travels through the universe saving lives. I just wanted to help, that’s all.”

     “It sounds wonderful,” Cheen commented wistfully. “Traveling like that, seeing the universe. I’d love to get out to see places like that.”

     Molly nodded, thinking of the last three days. “Yeah, it’s great,” she said with a smile. The conversation had been on her for too long, so she made a clumsy attempt to change the subject. “Er, what about you? Tell me about your life here.” She wanted to know more about life five billion years in the future.

**SCENEBREAK**

     An hour or so had passed; Molly was having trouble telling on the hovercar. She and Cheen were still talking, with Milo contributing between his driving. He’d recently announced that they had ten levels to go until they reached the fast lane – not too long now. Once they dropped Molly off, she wanted to talk to the Doctor about the insane traffic jam that seemed to be going on; it seemed like his kind of problem.

     Over the last hour it had been mostly Cheen and Milo talking about their life on New Earth, but they’d asked Molly some questions about her life as well. At one point, she’d slipped and mentioned Sherlock, whom Cheen started asking question after question about. She answered a little uncomfortably as she tried to describe the cold, brilliant man.

     “He never notices me,” she admitted softly.

     Cheen gave her a sympathetic smile. “He sounds like a real snob,” she told the pathologist.

     “Oh no, it’s not like that,” Molly rushed to defend the detective. “It’s fine. I mean, I just work with him, what should he notice me for?”

     The woman shook her head. “Yeah, but it sounds like he notices you plenty when he needs you,” she pointed out. “I say forget about him. ‘Sides, you’re traveling with that Doctor bloke now. He’s your friend, right? What do you need Sherlock for then?”

     Molly blushed at the question, but she was saved from having to answer by a deep rumbling sound from beneath them. She blinked in surprise. “What was that?”

     Cheen drew in a sharp breath. “It's that noise, doesn't it? It's like Kate said.” She looked almost excited. “The stories, they're true.”

     “Stories?”

     Before Cheen could reply, Milo cut in with, “It's the sound of the air vents. That's all. The exhaust fumes travel down, so at the base of the tunnel they've got air vents.”

     “No, but the stories are much better,” Cheen said with relish. She turned to Molly with a mischievous grin as her voice took on a story-telling tone. “They say people go missing on the motorway. Some cars just vanish, never to be seen again, because there's something living down there in the smoke. Something huge and hungry. And if you get lost on the road, it's waiting for you.”

     Another deep growl sounded, more like a roar than a rumble. Milo looked shaken for a moment, but when the sound faded, he shook his head firmly. “But like I said. Air vents.” Without waiting for a response, he turned back to the controls. “Going down to the next layer,” he informed them.

     This was definitely starting to sound like something for the Doctor to investigate. Molly peered dubiously out the front window. “Um, Milo? I’m not sure the air vents are working. There’s way too much fog out there.

     Milo and Cheen shared a worried glance, but after a few moments he shook his head again. “Nah. Kid stuff.” He picked up the radio transmitter connected to the display and spoke into it. “Car four six five diamond six, on descent.”

     The computer spoke back in a pleasant, female tone. “Fast lane access. Please drive safely.”

     As Milo drove the car down, he shared a triumphant grin with Cheen. “We made it,” he said with wonder. “The fast lane.”

     Molly watched anxiously as the car descended, wondering what else might be waiting for them down there.

**SCENEBREAK**

     “Try again,” Cheen said anxiously.

     Milo tapped the image of Exit One on the monitor. He was rewarded with the same thing the computer had told them moments before; “ _Brooklyn turnoff one, closed._ ”

     He and his girlfriend shared a worried glance. “Try the next one,” Cheen told him, voice wavering slightly.

     He tapped the next one, but the computer just told him, “ _Brooklyn turnoff two, closed._ ”

     “What do we do?” Cheen asked anxiously. The mother-to-be seemed to be taking the stories she’d heard seriously, and Molly couldn’t blame her. If the last few days had taught her anything, it was that crazy stories weren’t always so crazy.

     “We'll keep going round,” Milo said firmly, though his voice wavered slightly. It was clear he was trying to stay the logical one despite his fear. “We'll do the whole loop, and by the time we come back round, they'll be open.”

     A deep growl reverberated around them, louder than before. Cheen let out a slight whimper, and Milo’s face paled of color. Molly felt a thrill of fear, but she was able to keep her head. She leaned forward between Milo and Cheen’s seats. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think that’s air vents.”

     Milo fought to keep his voice under control as he asked, “What else could it be?”

     A deep thud sounded beside them. “What the hell was that?!” Cheen asked, voice going high-pitched with fear.

     “It's just the hydraulics,” her boyfriend insisted, starting to sound angry. “There’s nothing alive. It's all exhaust fumes out there. Nothing could breathe in that.”

     Before either Cheen or Molly could respond, static sounded from the radio transmitter. “ _Calling Car four six five diamond six. Repeat, calling Car four six five diamond six._ ” It wasn’t the automated voice from before; it was a worried, female tone.

     Milo scrambled to pick up the transmitter. “This is Car four six five diamond six,” he confirmed hastily, trying to cover up his fear. “Who's that? Where are you?”

     “ _I'm in the fast lane,_ ” the woman told him quickly, “ _about fifty yards behind. Can you get back up? Can you get off the fast lane?_ ” There was urgency in her tone as she spoke. Molly felt a shiver of fear. This woman knew about whatever was down here.

     Milo shook his head. “We only have permission to go down,” he told the woman. “We need the Brooklyn Flyover.”

     “ _It’s closed!_ ” the woman snapped. “ _Go back up._ ”

     “We can’t,” Milo repeated. “We’ll just go round.”

     There was a frustrated sound from the other end. “ _Don't you understand? They're closed. They're always closed! We're stuck down here, and there's something else out there in the fog. Can’t you hear it?_ ” Another roared echoed around them.

     “That’s the air vents,” Milo insisted, though now he seemed to be trying to convince himself rather than anyone else.

     “ _Jehovah, what are you, some stupid kid? Get out of here!_ ”

     The sound of something banging against metal echoed from the radio transmitter, followed by yelps of terror. “What was that?!” Milo asked in a voice high from fear.

     “ _I can’t move!_ ” the woman gasped, “ _They’ve got us!_ ”

     Molly asked, “Who’s got you? What is it?” at the same time as Milo demanded, “But what’s happening?!”

     “ _It’s here! Just drive, you idiots! Get out of here!_ ” The static increased in intensity, then was cut off entirely.

     Milo’s eyes were wide with terror, and Cheen was gripping the arms of her seat with white knuckles. “Can you hear me?” Milo asked into the radio transmitter. “Hello?”

     Molly took it gently from Milo’s hands. “Milo, she said to get out of here. We need to move, please!”

     “But where?”

     “Up. As far as you can,” Molly told him. “Then just straight ahead. Maybe we can outrun it, whatever it is.”

     With a frightened nod, Milo did what she said, picking up speed as they zoomed through the fast lane.

     For a few minutes, nothing happened, and Molly allowed herself to think they had made it. Then something banged against the side of the car. Cheen let out a short shriek of fear. “Go faster!” she told Milo.

     “We’re at top speed!” He tried to pull the car up further, but it refused to move. “ _No access above,_ ” the computer told him in the same cheerful tone.

     “But this is an emergency” Milo shouted at the controls. They didn’t give a reply.

     Molly tried to see through the windshield to figure out what was after them, but the fog cloaked everything. Hang on, the fog. “It can’t see us through the fog,” she realized aloud, “so it must be able to hear us somehow.” She turned urgently to Milo. “Can you turn the engines off?”

     He looked at her in shock. “You’ve got to be joking.”

     “They can’t see us,” Molly repeated, “so they must be following us by sound. Maybe if we’re silent, they won’t be able to find us. We need to shut off anything that makes sound.”

     “What if you’re wrong?”

     Molly felt a rush of uncertainty. She’d been so caught up in her idea that she’d forgotten she was asking these people to put their lives in her hands. If she was wrong, she was about to get them all killed. Then she remembered the Doctor, and she knew he’d say they had to try. “Just try, please.”

     Shooting her a last, frightened glance, Milo turned to the controls and started switching everything off. The car darkened and fell silent, and the banging from outside stopped. They all held their breath for a few moments.

     “They’ve stopped,” Cheen finally breathed.

     “Yeah, but they're still out there,” Milo reminded her softly.

     Cheen turned to Molly. “How did you think of that?” she asked with admiration.

     Molly shrugged. “I think I might have seen it in a movie once,” she admitted. “Besides, it seemed like something the Doctor would do.”

     “I sure wish that Doctor fellow of yours was here now,” Milo said worriedly, “because if we don’t think of something else fast, we’re going to run out of air. We had to switch the aircon off with the engines.”

     The pathologist drew in a sharp breath. She hadn’t thought of that. “How long have we got?”

     Milo looked at the controls with a frown. “Eight minutes,” he finally said. “Maximum.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     For six long minutes, they waited in silence, too scared to speak. Finally, Cheen asked Milo, “How much air’s left?”

     “Two minutes,” he breathed.

     There was a few moments of silence, then Molly sighed. “I’m sorry, I was wrong. We need to turn everything back on. If we try to go any longer the air’ll be too thin to breath.”

     Cheen reached out and grasped her hand, giving it a comforting pat. “It’s alright, Molly. It was a smart idea.”

     Milo went to the controls to turn the engines back on. Before he did, he turned back to look at Cheen and Molly. “Good luck,” he said softly. They just nodded in response. With that, he turned the engines back on and took off immediately, hurtling the car as fast as it could go through the fog.

     The roaring began again, and something clipped the side of the car, but they weren’t caught yet. Molly allowed herself to feel some hope. Maybe on the exits would be open next time. Maybe they could still get out of here.

     Suddenly, a wonderfully familiar voice sounded from the radio transmitter. “ _Oi! Car four six five diamond six. Molly! Drive up!_ ”

     Molly drew in a shocked breath. “It’s the Doctor!” She turned to Milo, feeling a rush of relief. “Do as he says, drive up!”

     Milo shook his head. “We can't, we'll hit the layer!” he reminded her.

     “Milo, please, just do it,” Cheen insisted. “You heard her stories about the Doctor, and it can’t hurt to try.”

     With an air of resignation, Milo tried once more to pull the car upwards. To his and Cheen’s obvious surprise, the car obeyed, pulling them straight up to the higher levels, away from the beasts below, away from even the foggy lanes. Cheen let out a breathless laugh. “It's daylight. Oh my God, that's the sky. The real sky.”

     Molly couldn’t help but laugh with relief. They were safe. She, Milo, Cheen and the baby, they’d all made it, and now the Doctor could fix the traffic jam from hell.

     The Doctor’s voice came again. “ _Car four six five diamond six, I've sent you a flight path. Come to the Senate._ ”

     Molly nodded. “We’re on our way.”

     She could practically hear the Doctor’s smile as he said, “ _It's been quite a while since I saw you, Molly Hooper._ ”

     His transmission ended, but only a few seconds passed before another’s took it’s place. “ _Hello there. Is this car four six five diamond six?_ ” It was a man’s voice, with a pleasant accent.

     Milo answered this time with a cautious, “Yes. Who is this.”

     “ _My name’s Brannigan. Is there a Molly Hooper on board by any chance?_ ”

     The pathologist answered with surprise. “Yes, that’s me.”

     A hearty chuckle sounded from the other surprise. “ _Glad to hear you made it, missy. That Doctor of yours hitched a ride with us, trying to find you. He was rather adamant about the whole thing. Started jumping cars just to get to you. I don’t envy him, having to go through that bloody fog._ ”

     Molly was surprised by the idea. The Doctor had come back just for her? “R-really?”

     Before Brannigan could respond, Milo took over the controls. “We’re almost at the Senate. We should be dropping you off soon, Molly.” He gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry for getting you into that.”

     Molly smiled back warmly. “It’s fine. Take care, you two.”

     She shook Milo’s hand, but Cheen surprised her by pulling her into a tight hug. “Be safe,” the woman said warmly. “And let us know if you ever come back in town, yeah?”

     The pathologist couldn’t help but smile back. “I will,” she promised.

**SCENEBREAK**

     After they dropped her off at the Senate, Molly rushed into the building, eager to see the Doctor again. The building seemed eerily silent, and when she made it into the main hall, the first thing she noticed were the skeletons scattered about the room. She blanched, but the Doctor’s voice distracted her from them. “Molly! Over here.”

     She looked up to see the Time Lord crouched by what appeared to be an enormous, wrinkled face lying on the floor, right beside a shattered glass case. A woman with the head of a cat watched nearby, sorrow in her expression as she looked on the giant face. An odd scene to be sure, but Molly was getting rapidly used to odd scenes.

     The Doctor waved her over. “Come on, it’s fine. Molly, this is the Face of Boe. It's all right. Come and say hello.” He waved a hand briefly at the cat as he added, “And this is Hame. She's a cat. Don't worry.” The Time Lord turned back to the Face of Boe. “He's the one that saved you, not me.”

     Molly approached slowly, avoiding the skeletons and broken glass, and crouched down beside the face. It looked up at her with a kindly old expression, his eyes warm even as he fought for life.

     Hame spoke behind them. “My lord gave his life to save the city,” she said solemnly, “and now he's dying.”

     “No, don't say that,” the Doctor insisted with a fake, cheerful grin. “Not old Boe. Plenty of life left.”

     The Face of Boe took a deep, shuddering breath. “ _It's good to breathe the air once more,_ ” he rumbled. The voice didn’t come from his lips; instead, it echoed inside Molly’s head, warm and ancient, and slowly weakening.

     Molly reached out a hand to stroke the old face, sympathy welling up for the one who had saved her life. “Do you know him?” she asked the Doctor.  
     “I met him once,” the Time Lord answered distractedly, gaze fixed on the giant face. “Legend says the Face of Boe has lived for billions of years. Isn't that right?” he asked the dying face. “And you're not about to give up now.”

     The Face of Boe let out a weary sigh. “ _Everything has its time,_ ” he reminded the Doctor. “ _You know that, old friend, better than most._ ”

     “The legend says more,” Hame reminded them tentatively.

     The Doctor shook his head firmly. “Don't. There's no need for that.”

     “It says that the Face of Boe will speak his final secret to a traveler,” the cat pushed on, ignoring the Doctor.

     “Yeah, but not yet,” the Doctor told the face. He gave a crooked grin, but Molly could see the fear in his eyes. “Who needs secrets, eh?”

     “ _I have seen so much,_ ” the Face of Boe gasped out. “ _Perhaps too much. I am the last of my kind, as you are the last of yours, Doctor._ ”

     Molly frowned. The last of his kind? What did the Face of Boe mean? He didn’t mean that there were no other Time Lords, did he? They couldn’t _all_ be dead. She pushed the thought away as the Doctor smiled sadly at the Face of Boe. “That's why we have to survive. Both of us. Don't go.” Molly was surprised at the sadness in his tone. He barely knew this face, but it was killing him to watch him die. _He thinks it’s his fault,_ she realized. He really thought that it was his fault the face was dying. Just as he had with Peter Streete. Her heart went out to the Time Lord.

     “ _I must. But know this, Time Lord._ ” The lips of the Face of Boe parted, and for the first time, he spoke from them rather than from his mind. “You are not alone.”

     With a last, shuddering breath, the Face of Boe stilled forever. Hame the cat was weeping behind them, but the Doctor just looked at the face with a blank face, which Molly knew hid the true depth of his loss, and his guilt.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Several minutes later, they were back in Pharmacy Town, which was now completely closed down. “Happy?” she asked the Doctor.

     He grinned back at her. “Happy happy,” he joked. “New New York can start again. And they've got Novice Hame. Just what every city needs. Cats in charge.” With a final glance around, he started off for the TARDIS. “Come on, time we were off.”

     As she followed him, Molly asked hesitantly, “Doctor, do you know what the Face of Boe meant when he said you weren’t alone?”

     Sadness crept back into his expression. “No clue.” Then it was replaced with the same, goofy grin. “Come on, let’s get going.”

     Molly contemplated pressing him for more answers, but it clearly hurt him to talk about it. Whatever he’d lost, it had hurt him deeply, and now he seemed to blame himself for everyone who died when he was there, even when it wasn’t his fault. Molly didn’t want to put salt in the wounds by making him relive it. Maybe he was lying to her and hiding things from her, but she understood not wanting to tell her.

     Instead, she gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks for coming to get me today.”

     He looked at her, surprised at the suggestion. “Of course. You’re my friend, it’s what I do.”

     Molly felt warmth in her chest at the word _friend_. She hadn’t had a real friend in a long time. On impulse, she reached out a hand, which the Doctor took, both to comfort and to assure herself of this new friendship. Hand in hand, the Doctor and his companion headed back to the TARDIS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this turned out to only be two parts, which I was hoping it would. Sorry if it seems a little rushed, but as I said, it only focuses on Molly, not the Doctor.
> 
> As you see, I changed Molly conversation with Milo and Cheen from what Martha had. I don't know where my characterization of Cheen came from, but she kind of seems like the friend you'd complain about a guy to and she'd be the one to call him a jerk and suggest egging his house. Somehow, I feel like she'd make a good companion. But her place is on New Earth with Milo and her baby.
> 
> And yes, we skip out on the whole discussion about Gallifrey and the Time Lords. Because Molly's a sweetheart and doesn't have the heart to ask the Doctor about it, unlike Martha, who was rightfully pissed that he'd lied to her. That will indeed have some effects on future episodes.


	11. Daleks in Manhattan: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and the Doctor investigate the Hooverville disappearances.

     Molly stepped out of the TARDIS to find a wide, grassy area, and to smell the salty air and hear waves crashing against the shores. “Where are we?” she asked curiously. Something beside them seemed to be casting a very long shadow over the TARDIS.

     The Doctor stepped out behind her, taking in the sights with a grin. “Ah, smell that Atlantic breeze. Nice and cold. Lovely.” He turned to look behind them, motioning for Molly to do the same. “Molly, have you met my friend?”

     The pathologist turned to see that they had parked beside two wide stone walls, which explained the shadow. The walls acted as a pedestal of sorts for a huge, shockingly familiar statue. “Oh, no way,” Molly breathed. It wasn't any more shocking than aliens and time travel, but it was still a surprise to see the green lady with her torch pointed skyward. “Is that the Statue of Liberty?”

     The Doctor grinned eagerly at her. He always seemed to gain excitement from her own appreciation of their adventures. “Gateway to the New World.” The Time Lord turned back to the statue with an air of respect. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breath free,” he quoted.

     Molly shook her head slightly, a grin still on her face. “It's as beautiful as I imagined. I always wanted to go to New York growing up. Well, the first New York anyway, not the new, new, new, new one.”

     “Well, there's the genuine article,” the Doctor said grandly, getting a chuckle from Molly. “So good, they named it twice.” He tipped his head thoughtfully. “Mind you, it was New Amsterdam originally. Harder to say twice. Now wonder it didn't catch on.” The Time Lord wrinkled his nose as he tested it out. “New Amsterdam, New Amsterdam.”

     Molly laughed at the Time Lord's antics, then turned to look at the city itself, which was visible past the water. It wasn't as vast as its future counterpart, but it was still a grand sight to see. Though something seemed to be missing. “The Empire State building,” she realized aloud. “It's not finished; the top isn't all built.”

     “Yep,” the Doctor agreed, squinting thoughtfully at it, “it's still a work in progress. They've got a couple floors to go, and if I know my history, that makes the date somewhere around...”

     The pathologist had spotted a newspaper lying on a nearby bench. She grabbed it, scanned the top for the date, then showed it to the Doctor. “November 1st, 1930.”

     He grinned appreciatively. “You're getting good at this.”

     Molly turned to look back at New York. “It's weird, time travel. Like, I always wanted to come to New York, but it turns out this whole time I've already been. Or something.” She shot the Doctor a quick look. “How does that work exactly?”

     “Is now really the time for a complicated discussion about the mechanics of time travel?” the Doctor asked wryly. “Come on, we're in New York, let's just enjoy it...” He trailed off as he looked more closely at the paper Molly held. “Oh.”

     Molly knew that tone. That was the trouble's-coming-and-this'll-be-fun tone. Despite the danger, because there would always be danger where the Doctor was involved, she couldn't help but feel excited. She was quite getting used to adventuring. “What is it?”

     “I think our detour just got longer.” The Doctor took the paper from her, then turned it so she could see the headline. She read it with a puzzled frown. “Hooverville Mystery Deepens.” The pathologist looked up at her friend with confusion. “What's Hooverville?”

**SCENEBREAK**

     “Herbert Hoover, thirty first President of the USA, came to power a year ago,” the Doctor told her. They were walking together through Central Park, and the Doctor was in full lecturing-professor mode. “Up 'til then New York was a boom town, the Roaring Twenties, and then...”

     “The Great Depression,” Molly realized. She'd forgotten that had happened in the thirties. “That started in 1929 for the US, right?”  
     The Doctor nodded. “Stocks at Wall Street crashed. A whole economy wiped out overnight. Thousands of people unemployed. All of a sudden, the huddled masses doubled in number with nowhere to go. So, they ended up here,” he said, looking around appraisingly, “in Central Park.”

     “Wait, the park?” Molly repeated in shock. “They actually lived – sorry, live – here in the park?”

     The Time Lord nodded grimly. “Come on, I'll show you.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     He led her to a ramshackle little town set up in the middle of the park – though “town” was a generous term at best. It was made up of dozens, maybe hundreds of tents and various encampments, all tightly packed together. Clotheslines held up raged clothes, various fires were lit, tarps were put up over shelters. People shuffled about, dirty and unkempt, with hollow, defeated eyes. There was just a general air of hopelessness about the place; it was almost chilling.

     The Doctor led her through, still lecturing. “Ordinary people lost their jobs. Couldn't pay the rent and they lost everything. There are places like this all over America. No one's helping them. You only come to Hooverville when there's nowhere else to go.”

     Suddenly, shouting broke out from further back. A crowd began to gather as the shouts gained intensity; the Doctor and Molly shared a quick glance before hurrying towards the crowd.

     When they got close enough to get a look, they saw two run-down looking men fighting. One had just gotten off the ground and was swinging a wild blow at the other. They started going at it again, but a new voice interrupted them. “Cut that out! Cut that out right now!” An older man with a dark, stern face forced his way between them.

     The man who'd started the fight pointed an accusing finger at his opponent, still trying to get past the man who'd broken up the fight. “He stole my bread!”

     The man who'd broken up the fight gave him a final shove on the chest to keep him back. “That's enough!” Turning to the man he'd attacked, he asked sternly, “Did you take it?”

     He shook his head fervently. “I don't know what happened. He just went crazy.”

     The other man tried to break free to get to him again, but the older man pushed him back again. “That's enough!” Whipping around to face the other man, he pointed a warning finger at him, voice low as he warned, “Now think real careful before you lie to me.”

     The man’s composure crumpled. With a whimper, he pulled out the loaf of bread in question from within his coat. “I’m starving, Solomon,” he whined.

     The older man, Solomon, held out a hand, and the other man obediently handed him the loaf. “We all starving,” he reminded the man, though his tone had softened some. He split the loaf in half, handing one half to each of the fighters. “We all got families somewhere. No stealing and no fighting. You know the rules.” There was a sad gleam in his eyes as he added, “Thirteen years ago I fought in the Great War. A lot of us did. And the only reason we got through was because we stuck together. No matter how bad things get, we still act like human beings. It’s all we got.”

     Still grumbling, but looking properly shamed, the two fighters slunk off with their half loaves. The crowd began to disperse, some stopping to thank Solomon or pay their respects. Molly felt a rush of respect for the man who had tactfully broken up the fight, and looking the Doctor she could tell he felt the same. “Come on,” he said as he started off towards Solomon. As they came up to the man, the Doctor said lightly, “I suppose that makes you the boss around here.”  
     Solomon turned to them, eyes narrowing as he took in their clothing. Molly suddenly felt self-conscious; she was wearing a dark blue tank top with a thin, light gray cardigan and jeans. Add that to the Doctor’s fancy suit and coat, and it was obvious neither of them belonged there. Still, Solomon was careful to keep his voice neutral as he asked, “And, er, who might you be?”

     “I’m the Doctor,” the Time Lord explained “and this is Molly.” He didn’t seem to notice how out-of-place they were here; then again, he didn’t really belong anywhere they visited, seeing as he wasn’t even human.

     “A doctor,” Solomon looked at the man in question appraisingly. “Huh. Well, we got stockbrokers, we got a lawyer, but you're the first doctor.” He shook his head. “Neighborhood gets classier by the day.”

     Molly looked around at the camp, still shocked by the sheer scale of it. “How many people live here?” she asked curiously.

     Solomon began leading them through Hooverville. “At any one time, hundreds,” he said in answer to Molly’s question. “No place else to go. But I will say this about Hooverville. We are a truly equal society. Black, white, Doctors, laborers, all the same. All starving. So you're welcome, both of you. But tell me. Doctor, you're a man of learning, right? Explain this to me.” He turned to look at the city beyond the town, pointing out the uncompleted Empire State Building. “That there's going to be the tallest building in the world.” With disgust he asked, “How come they can do that, when we got people starving in the heart of Manhattan?”

     The Doctor could give no answer.

**SCENEBREAK**

     As Solomon continued their little walk through Hooverville, the Doctor finally brought up the point he’d come for. “So, men are going missing. Is this true?”

     Solomon sighed. “It’s true all right,” he confirmed grimly.

     “But what does missing mean?” the Time Lord asked. “Men must come and go here all the time. It's not like anyone's keeping a register.”

     The Hooverville leader led them to a tent, holding open the flap to let them enter. “Come on in.” Molly ducked inside, greeted with the sight of a small, dusty cot and a few other possessions scattered around. Solomon followed them in, then turned back to the Doctor and explained, “This is different.”

     “How so?” Molly asked.

     “Someone takes them, at night,” Solomon explained darkly. “We hear something, someone calls out for help. By the time we get there, they're gone like they vanished into thin air.”

     “And you're sure someone's taking them?” the Doctor prompted.

     Solomon turned to him with a weary expression. “Doctor, when you got next to nothing, you hold on to the little you got. Your knife, blanket, you take it with you. You don't leave bread uneaten, fire still burning.” He seemed very protective of the people of Hooverville, and these disappearances clearly were eating at him.

     Molly felt a pang of sympathy for the man. He seemed like a great leader, but he was clearly being forced to work with way more than one man could handle, especially if the disappearances were of an extraterrestrial nature as the Doctor seemed to think. “Have you gone to the police?” she asked.

     Solomon snorted. “Yeah, we tried that. Another deadbeat goes missing, big deal.”

     The Doctor looked thoughtful. “So the question is, who's taking them and what for?”

     Suddenly, a voice from outside called out, “Solomon!” A young man, maybe late teens, early twenties, stuck his head inside the tent flap. “Solomon, Mister Diagoras is here,” he informed the man in a southern accent.

**SCENEBREAK**

     As they exited the tent, the Doctor could see the people of Hooverville crowding around a well-dressed man, presumably Mister Diagoras. He looked down at them with a sneer as he informed the crowd, “I need men. Volunteers. I've got a little work for you and you sure look like you can use the money.”

     The boy from before called out, “Yeah? What’s the money?”

     “A dollar a day,” Diagoras offered dismissively.

     Angry muttering broke out in the crowd. Solomon stepped forward, eyes narrowed shrewdly as he looked up at Diagoras. “What’s the work?”

     “A little trip down the sewers. Got a tunnel collapsed needs clearing and fixing.” He looked around at the crowd. “Any takers?”

     Solomon glared at him, voice sharp as he scoffed, “A dollar a day? That's slave wage. And men don't always come back up, do they?” The Doctor’s interest sharpened at this last part. Men being stolen from Hooverville, then disappearing during jobs? This couldn’t be a coincidence.

     Diagoras gave Solomon a dismissive sneer. “Accidents happen,” he told him flippantly.

     The Doctor threaded his way through the crowd so he could be seen. “What do you mean?” he asked curiously. “What sort of accidents?”

     The man didn’t even look at him as he changed the subject. “You don't need the work? That's fine. Anybody else?” The Doctor quickly raised his hand, causing Diagoras to glare at him and snap, “Enough with the questions.”

     “Oh, no, no, no, I'm volunteering, I'll go,” the Doctor assured him quickly. He had a feeling that whatever was going on, Diagoras was behind it somehow, and he needed to find out what. Silently, Molly raised her hand beside him without complaint. The Doctor was surprised she had come to trust him this easily. He’d been afraid she might not take to the danger as well as some of his other companions, but she seemed to be starting to enjoy herself. Although, that could still have something to do with her dangerously low self-esteem and need to sacrifice herself for others. The Doctor would have to work on that somehow.

     Diagoras nodded stiffly, then turned back to the crowd. “Anyone else?”

     Slowly, both Solomon and the boy from earlier raised their hands.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The small group had been led to a sewer system under the city. Diagoras stayed back, clearly not wanting to get his hands dirty in the sewers. “Turn left. Go about a half a mile. Follow tunnel two seven three. Fall's right ahead of you, you can't miss it.”

     “And when do we get our dollar?” asked the boy, whom they’d learned was named Frank.

     Diagoras answered simply, “When you come back up.”

     “And if we don't come back up?” the Doctor asked shrewdly. The whole set-up smelled of a trap, but the Time Lord had learned long ago that sometimes the best way to figure out a trap is to walk straight into it.

     “Then I got no one to pay.”

     “Don't worry,” Solomon growled, glaring at Diagoras, “we'll be back.” With that, the small group started off down the tunnel Diagoras had indicated.

     Frank turned to the Doctor and Molly. “We just got to stick together,” he told them in a friendly tone. “It's easy to get lost. It's like a huge rabbit warren. You could hide an army down here.”

     “Have you worked down here before?” Molly asked curiously.

     He shrugged. “A few times. A couple of odd jobs here and there, but never for Diagoras before.”

     “So what brought you to Hooverville?” she asked. “I mean, I’m not trying to pry or anything, it’s alright if you don’t want to-“

     Frank cut her off with a chuckle. “It’s fine,” he told her. “I’m from Tennessee, case you couldn’t tell by the accent. My daddy died ‘n Mama couldn't afford to feed us all. So, I'm the oldest, up to me to feed myself. So I put on my coat, hitched up here on the railroads. There's a whole lot of runaways in the camp, younger than me, from all over. Missouri, Oklahoma, Texas. Solomon keeps a lookout for us. So, what about you? You're a long way from home, if you don’t mind me sayin’.”

     Molly shrugged. “The Doctor and I were just visiting, then we heard about people going missing and thought we could help. The Doctor’s good about things like that.”

     The young man sighed. “Well, I sure hope you’re right. It’s not right when men’re bein’ stolen from the only safe place they got left.”

     The Doctor decided to steer the conversation back to the more important topic of the missing people and the man behind it. Turning to Solomon, he asked, “So this Diagoras bloke, who is he then?”

     Solomon’s eyes hardened at the thought of the man. “A couple of months ago, he was just another foreman. Now, it seems like he's running most of Manhattan.”

     That too led credence to the idea of him being behind the disappearances. Someone with that much power could easily engineer people to disappear, though why still wasn’t clear. The quick rise to power seemed suspicious as well. “How'd he manage that then?” he wondered aloud.

     “These are strange times,” Solomon said with a shrug. “A man can go from being King of the Hill to the lowest of the low overnight. It's just for some folks it works the other way round.”

     The Doctor was distracted by any further questioning by a sudden, putrid smell. He took out his sonic screwdriver to shine light ahead of them. Ahead of them lay a green blob, almost like a jellyfish, which seemed to be giving off the rank odor. It was also glowing slightly, which set off a few warning bells in the Doctor’s head.

     He and Molly crouched down beside it, examining. “It looks like a jellyfish,” Molly observed with a wrinkled nose. “Only I don’t remember jellyfish glowing in the dark. Or smelling like rotting meat.”

     The Doctor picked up the blob, shining the light of the screwdriver through it. “Huh. Composite organic matter.” He turned to his companion. “Molly? Medical opinion?”

     She shrugged. “I’m guessing it’s not human, but I couldn’t say more than that.”

     “No, it's not,” the Doctor agreed easily. “And I'll tell you something else.” He turned back to Solomon and Frank, who were watching the exchange with baffled expressions. “We must be at least half a mile in. I don't see any sign of a collapse, do you? So why did Mister Diagoras send up down here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Sorry the publication date on this is so weird. I was editing the chapter and somehow it got deleted entirely, so I had to re-upload it. I didn't remember the old publication date, so I just stuck on the date that I edited it, today. Sorry about that.
> 
> As you can see, this chapter's pretty much copied and pasted from the episode. Things'll start changing when the Daleks show up, I promise.


	12. Daleks in Manhattan: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, Molly, Frank, and Solomon discover the pigmen that are hiding in the sewers.

     Several more minutes of silent walking passed before Solomon spoke again. “We're way beyond half a mile. There's no collapse, nothing.”

     “So Diagoras was lying?” Molly asked. She didn't seem all that surprised, the Doctor noted proudly. She caught on quick.

     “Looks like it,” he replied.

     “So why'd he want people to come down here?” Frank asked curiously.

     The Doctor looked from Molly to Frank, considering. Molly had been in danger with him before, true, but he was getting an increasingly bad feeling about whatever was down here, and Frank was just a kid. There had been something familiar about that green blob they'd found; the Doctor wasn't sure what it was, but it gave him a greater feeling of danger than he'd felt in a long time.

     Aloud, he said to the Hooverville leader, “Solomon, I think it's time you took these two back. I'll be much quicker on my own.”

     As Frank and, to his surprise, Molly began to protest, a loud squeal echoed around them. They all whirled around to face the noise. “What the hell was that?” Solomon asked in a low tone.

     Frank took a cautious step towards the sound. “Hello?” he called out. The other tried to pull him back, but he protested, “What if it's one of the folk gone missing? You'd be scared and half mad down here on your own.”

     The Doctor gave Frank an appraising look. “Do you think they're still alive?” he asked skeptically.

     Frank shrugged. “Heck, we ain't seen no bodies down here. Maybe they just got lost.”

     The Doctor doubted it was as simple as that, but the boy had a point – they hadn't found any bodies. Which meant it wasn't just mindless slaughter; there was a point of some sort to all of this.

     Solomon shook his head, gaze dark. “I know I never heard nobody make a sound like that.”

     “Where's it coming from?” Frank questioned, peering around the dark tunnels. “Sounds like there's more than one of them.”

     The Doctor pointed down where he'd thought it had come from. “This way.”

     “No, that way,” Solomon countered, pointing his torch down towards a different tunnel.

     As he pointed the torch, it cast a light on a huddled figure crouched further down the tunnel. They all froze, eyes fixed on the figure. “Who are you?” Solomon asked quietly.

     Frank took a few steps towards it “Are you lost? Can you understand me?” He waited a few moments, but when an answer didn't come, he continued, “I've been thinking about folk lost down...”

     The Doctor cut him off. “It's alright Frank, just stay back.” He made sure the kid backed up, then began slowly approaching the figure. If it was an alien, it might not understand English, so it'd be better if he spoke with it so the TARDIS could translate for him if needed.

     Softly, he spoke to the figure as he edged closer. “He's got a point though, my mate Frank. I'd hate to be stuck down here on my own.” The figure made no response, putting up a few red flags for the Doctor, so he pushed on. “We know the way out. Daylight. If you come with us...”

     He trailed off as he got close enough to throw the figure's face into light. It had the body of a man, but the face was that of a pig, with a snout, ears, tusks, and a wrinkled, bald head. The creature gazed at him with dull, unintelligent eyes. “Oh, but what are you?” the Doctor breathed, fascinated. He had a feeling this wasn't an alien, which made things a lot more complicated.

     “Is that, er, some kind of carnival mask?” Solomon asked uncertainly.

     “No, it's real,” the Doctor told him distractedly. He remained focused on the pig-man. Unless he was very much mistaken, this was one of the people from Hooverville who'd gone missing. The look in his eyes made him think the creature had been robbed of his intelligence, but he had to try. “I'm sorry. Now listen to me. I promise I can help. Who did this to you?”

     He was so focused on the pig-man that he didn't notice more of them approaching him until Molly spoke up. “Um, Doctor? There's more.”

     The Time Lord looked up to see more of the pig-creatures approaching, silently threatening. “Ah, yes. This... complicates things a bit.” He started backing up slowly, rejoining the others.

     “They're following you,” Molly said uneasily.

     “Yeah, I noticed that, thanks.” He watched the approaching figures, wracking his brain for a way to deal with this. “Well then, Molly, Frank, Solomon...”

     “What?” Molly asked.

     “Er, basically... run.” With that, the small group bolted back down the tunnel they'd come from, pursued by squealing, sharp-tusked pigmen.

     They hurtled through the darkened tunnels, the Doctor leading them by memory back the way they'd came. As they ran, he noticed something down a side passage. “It's a ladder! Come on!” He veered sharply towards the ladder, clambering up the rungs as the rest of the group hurried after. With a bit of encouragement from his sonic screwdriver, the hatch above the ladder opened, and the Doctor was able to climb up into the room above.

     He turned back to the ladder below. Now to help save the others.

**SCENEBREAK**

     When Molly had started traveling with the Doctor, she'd imagined fantastic aliens, strange adventures, horrible danger, all of it and more. What she hadn't anticipated was the sheer amount of running that was involved. Nor had she realized how easy it was to get tired after several days straight of what seemed to be non-stop running. In the back of her mind she resolved to ask the Doctor if the TARDIS had a gym. She'd need to build up her endurance if she wanted to keep up the whole running thing.

     She bolted to the ladder, scrambling up after the Doctor, pausing only to look back at the others. Solomon was waiting to follow after her, but Frank had grabbed a metal bar and was trying to fend off the pigmen that had caught up. “Come on Frank!”

     “Just go!” the boy called. She wanted to stay and argue, but Solomon was still waiting to climb, so she hurried up the ladder, letting the Doctor help her up beside him. Solomon climbed up quickly, but when Frank tried to follow, the pigmen grabbed his legs with vicious squeals, pulling him away from the ladder.

     Before Molly could react, the Doctor and Solomon scrambled to try and grab his hand. “I've got you. C'mon! Come on!” For a moment, Molly thought they'd saved Frank. Then he cried out, and the squealing grew softer as the pigmen retreated, taking Frank with them. The Doctor cried out, “No!” just as Solomon yelled the boy's name. The Time Lord tried to reach down to him again, but Solomon pushed him away from the hole and closed the hatch, keeping the pigmen from following them.

     The Doctor scrambled to try and open the hatch again. Solomon pushed him back, wide-eyed and scared, but determined. “We can't go after him!”

     “We've got to go back down!” the Time Lord said desperately. Molly had never seen him this worked up before. It was heartbreaking to see how desperate he was to save the kid. There was wild fear in his eyes, fear of losing someone else, of being responsible for another death. “We can't just leave him!”

     “No, I'm not losing anybody else!” Solomon insisted firmly. For a moment, Molly saw something of the Doctor in this man. A true leader, determined to do what was needed, no matter what it cost him. “Those creatures were from Hell. From Hell itself! If we go after them, they'll take us all! There's nothing we can do. I'm sorry.”

     The Time Lord looked at Solomon with wide, horrified eyes, but before he could protest again, a new voice sounded behind them. “All right, then. Put them up.” They turned to see a young blond woman in a black dress, pointing a gun at them in a steady hand. “Hands in the air and no funny business.”

     Molly put her hands up slowly, quickly followed by Solomon. The Doctor took longer, probably still in a mood because of Frank, but when the woman waved the gun insistingly, he slowly raised his hands above his head. The woman glared at them and said in a sharp tone, “Now tell me, you schmucks, what have you done with Laszlo?”

     The small group blinked at her uncomprehendingly. “Um...” Molly began uncertainly, “who's Lazlo?”

**SCENEBREAK**

     It turned out they had climb up into a prop room for the Laurenzi Theatre. The blond had led them into her dressing room, and was currently leaning back in a chair by her dresser, gun held loosely in one hand. She no longer seemed to think them a threat, thankfully, but everyone viewed her casual handling of the gun with unease. “Laszlo's my boyfriend,” she began to explain her earlier accusation. “Or was my boyfriend until he disappeared two weeks ago. No letter, no goodbye, no nothing. And I'm not stupid. I know some guys are just pigs,” Molly had to hold back a snort of laughter at her choice of words, “but not my Laszlo. I mean, what kind of guy asks you to meet his mother before he vamooses?”

     “Yeah,” the Doctor said slowly, eyes trained on the gun she held. “It might, might just help if you put that down.”

     “Huh?” The woman looked down at the gun in her hand in surprise, as though she had forgotten she was holding it. “Oh, sure.” She tossed it carelessly onto the couch, causing everyone to flinch away. The woman raised an eyebrow at their reaction, then let out a snort as she realized their thoughts. “Oh, come on. It's not real. It's just a prop. It was either that or a spear.”

     Molly let out the breath she’d been holding. Everyone visibly relaxed now that it was clear the gun held no danger. The woman seemed harmless now, so she took a few steps towards her and asked, “Well, what do you think happened to Lazlo?”

     The woman shrugged. “I wish I knew. One minute he's there, the next, zip. Vanished.”

     The Doctor was starting to look impatient with the conversation. “Listen, ah—what's your name?”

     “Tallulah.”

     “Tallulah,” the Time Lord began, but the woman in question cut him off.

     “Three Ls and an H,” she clarified.

     He looked slightly annoyed at the interruption, but all he said was, “Right. We can try to find Laszlo, but he's not the only one. There are people disappearing every night.”

     “And there are creatures.” It was the first time Solomon had spoken since they’d abandoned Frank, and the determination he’d shown then had been replaced by the fear he’d been holding back. “Such creatures.”

     Tallulah looked at him with raised eyebrows. “What do you mean, creatures?” she asked dubiously.

     The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Look, listen, just trust me. Everyone is in danger. I need to find out exactly what this is.” He pulled out of his coat the green jellyfish blob from before. Molly held back a gag at the rank odor, and Tallulah’s eyes widened impressively at the sight of it. “Because then I'll know exactly what we're fighting.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     Solomon and the Doctor went in search of whatever it was the Doctor needed to figure out what the blob thing was. Molly had decided to stay behind with Tallulah; the blond was clearly confused about what was going on and scared for her boyfriend; she could do with having someone to talk to.

     The blond in question was staring blankly at the mirror on her dresser, her earlier bravado replaced by a quiet mournfulness. “Laszlo,” she said quietly. “He'd wait for me after the show. Walk me home like I was a lady. He'd leave a flower for me on my dressing table. Every day, just a single rose bud.”

     Molly couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. This Lazlo sounded like a really great guy. Why couldn’t she find something like that? But she pushed back her jealousy and focused on the heartbroken blond in front of her. “He sounds great,” she said encouragingly.

     A small smile appeared on the blond’s lips. “Yeah. Yeah, he is.”

     Talking about him seemed to be helping, so Molly pushed on. “How did you meet him?”

     Tallulah sighed happily. “I grew up here, but almost across the city. I came here to get work when I lost my last job, ‘cause I heard they was hiring dancers, but even after I got hired it was hard. Didn’t really know anyone, and I was just going back to an empty apartment every night, you know? Anyway, a few weeks after I started here, I had trouble getting a cab to get home after work, and it was pouring outside and the wind was blowing hard, the works. And this guy comes up to me; I was still in costume, so I figured he was looking for a girl to hire, but he acts the gentleman and offers to drive me home.” She smiled fondly at the memory. “He’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met.” The smile faded as she added firmly, “And that’s why I know he didn’t run off on me. He just ain’t that kind of guy.”

     With a last shake of her head, she turned to Molly, forced smile in full effect. “Anyway, enough about me. How’d ya get together with that skinny guy in the sharp suit?”

     “The Doctor?” Molly asked with surprise. “Oh, we’re not together. I’ve got a boyfriend back home.”

     Tallulah looked surprised. “Really? Huh, wouldn’ta called it. I guess you two weren’t acting all couple-y, but you’re traveling together so I just figured.”

     “It seems like everyone we meet does that,” Molly said wryly.

     “Well, at least you got a fellow back home,” the blond observed sadly. “All I get every day is this.” She pulled out a white rose from inside her dresser.

     Molly remembered her earlier mention of Lazlo leaving her a flower. “Do you think he’s leaving them for you?” she asked in surprise. She’d gotten the impression that Lazlo had gone missing entirely, but if he could leave a rose bud behind every day, he must be hiding out somewhere at least near the theater, if not inside the place itself.

     Tallulah shrugged helplessly. “I don't know. If he's still around, why is he being all secret like he doesn't want me to see him?”

     “Dunno,” was all Molly could offer. The whole story was reminding her of something familiar. “It all seems very Phantom of the Opera, doesn’t it?”

     Tallulah looked at her blankly. “Who?”

     Molly backtracked as she realized her mistake. “Oh, nothing.” The musical wouldn’t be out for a while probably, though she wasn’t sure of the date.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Molly helped Tallulah get ready for her performance, then followed her backstage as she joined the other performers. The blond turned to Molly “Come on, honey. Take a look. Ever been on stage before?”

     “Er, you know, did a Shakespeare play once.” She held back a smirk at her own joke. The playwright would’ve like Tallulah, who probably would have been far more adept at flirting back.

     Tallulah scoffed. “How dull is that? Come and see a real show.” She pulled Molly right up to the edge of the curtain so she had a good view of the stage.

     After a few minutes, the girls all went out on stage. The song was entertaining, but Molly was soon distracted by a strange sight. A pigman was standing near the curtain across the stage, but he didn’t look like an ordinary pigman. There was more human in his face, and he didn’t seem to be trying to chase anyone. Instead, he was watching the performance with something like sadness in his twisted face.

     Molly froze, moving a little behind the curtain so he didn’t notice her. For now, he didn’t appear to be moving, but it could easily be a trap. Better to wait until the Doctor arrived and figured out how to proceed then run after him and possibly into a trap. Besides, he didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

     The performance had just finished when the Doctor finally returned, without Solomon. “Listen, I figured out where the sample –”

     Molly cut him off. “Doctor, look.” She pointed discreetly across the stage, where the pigman was still standing.

     The Doctor blinked at it in surprise, then turned to Molly. “And you didn’t go after it?”

     Her brow furrowed in confusion. “You told me not to wander off.”

     “Yeah,” he said, looking baffled, “but I think you’re the first human I’ve ever met to actually listen to that.”

     Without further explanation, he grabbed her hand and started off across stage. The performers let out cries of surprise, and the pigman looked up at them, startled. It started to run for it, fleeing past the backstage into the props room, but she and the Doctor quickly followed. To Molly’s surprise, Tallulah ran after them, hollering for them to slow down, though she soon fell far behind.

     Without warning, one of the pig creatures grabbed the Doctor from behind. Molly whirled around to help free him, but the creature was fierce. She grabbed hold of his arm. “Come on, Doctor!” They tried to pull him loose from the pigman, but it pushed him to the ground with a fierce shove. The Doctor’s head connected with the ground with a sickening  _thud_. He twitched slightly, then lay still, unconscious as far as Molly could tell.

     The pigman grabbed him by the arms and began to drag him away, baring his tusks fiercely at Molly. “No! Let him go!” She tried to follow, but someone grabbed her arms from behind.

     Molly tried desperately to pull free, but the grip on her was too strong, and she was forced to watch helplessly as the pigman dragged an unconscious Doctor away. She whipped around her head to see who was holding her back. “What were you…” Molly trailed off as she realized it was the human-looking pigman who had grabbed her.

     He looked at her with a desperate expression. “I’m sorry, but he’s gone, alright? You don’t need to let yourself get taken too.”

     Before Molly could react to it being able to speak, Tallulah finally caught up. “Hey, let her go!” The blond hurried over to the two, pulling Molly back from the pigman, who jerked back after releasing her, hiding his face.

     He tried to shuffle back into the shadows, but Molly followed him slowly, inching closer. “Hey, are you alright?” The pigman didn’t answer, keeping his face turned away from them. “You helped me. Why?”

     He just shook his head with a grunt. “I couldn’t just let you get taken.”

     “So why were you in the theater?” she asked gently.

     “I… don’t look at me,” he whimpered softly.

     Tallulah, who’d been staying back with wide eyes, slowly began to approach. “Hey, I know that voice.” The pigman tried to pull back into the shadows, but Tallulah soon came close enough to touch his face. Her eyes widened in horror. “Lazlo? My Laszlo? Oh, what have they done to you?” Her voice trembled, but her hand stayed on his cheek.

     He looked back at her with longing. “I’m sorry. I never wanted you to see me like this.”

     Molly watched the two with sympathy. This was more like Phantom of the Opera than she’d thought; a man with a hideous face in love with a beautiful woman. Normally she’d let it play out, but right now there were more urgent things to get to.

     “Lazlo,” she prompted softly, ”Do you know where they took my friend?”

     The pigman nodded grimly. “He’s being taken to the masters.”

     “The masters?” she echoed.

     “The ones who did this to me. They needed slaves. They needed slaves to steal more people so they created us. Part animal, part human. I escaped before they got my mind, but it was still too late.”

     She felt a thrill of horror. “So he’s going to have his mind taken?”

     He shrugged. “It depends. Is he smart, your friend?”

     Molly nodded, puzzled by the question. “He’s completely brilliant.”

     “Then they’ll take him away for the final experiment,” Lazlo told her grimly. “The people they take are divided into two groups. High intelligence and low intelligence. The low intelligence are taken to become pig slaves like me, but they take those with high intelligence to the labs for something they call the final experiment. I’m not sure what it is, but those taken never come back.”

     Molly’s thoughts raced with ways to help save the Doctor, but then she considered something he’d said. “You said they needed more slaves?”

     He nodded. “Now more than ever. I don’t know what they’re planning, but whatever it is, they seem to need it done by tomorrow morning.”

     She felt a cold shiver of fear. “Hooverville. They’re going to go after Hooverville.”

     The pathologist hesitated, but in the end there was only one choice. “Come on,” she said to Tallulah and Lazlo, “we’ve got to warn everyone.”

     “Warn who about what?” Tallulah asked, exasperated. “And what about your friend?”

     She felt a pang of guilt but forced herself to ignore it. “He’s clever. He can take care of himself for a bit, but first we need to warn Hooverville. You two coming?”

     Tallulah and Lazlo exchanged uncertain glances, but finally turned back to Molly with a nod. “We’ll do what we can,” Tallulah announced.

     Molly looked at the two followers she’d picked up and wondered fearfully if she was about to lead them to their deaths. Who knew what these aliens were after, and if there was even a Hooverville left to save?

     The Doctor’s coat was lying on the ground inside the prop room; it was the same one they had come through before. Molly grabbed it and slung it over her arm. “Alright. Let’s get going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I promised I'd be departing from canon, didn't I? Molly doesn't seem like the wandering-off type, hence the slight change that led to a larger change. I love exploring cause and effect like that.
> 
> I know I cut off this episode a little early, but I need to think about where I'm going with Evolution of the Daleks, and I wanted to get this posted.


	13. Evolution of the Daleks: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor is taken prisoner by the pigmen.

     The Doctor groaned as he returned to consciousness. The first thing he noticed was the rather uncomfortable throbbing in the back of his head, which began fading the longer he was awake. The next was that he was lying on a rather uncomfortable stone ground. It didn't take him long to remember what had happened and who had taken him. Without opening his eyes, he could guess that he'd been dragged into the sewers from before. The ground he laid on felt like the cool stone of the tunnels, and the light behind his eyelids seemed the same. There was some shuffling, and a few whimpers, suggesting there were other people around him, and probably some of the pigmen from earlier. He guessed that they were the people who'd gone missing from earlier, and now he was being taken hostage with them. For what, he wasn't entirely sure.

     When he opened his eyes, he saw a familiar face looking down at him with worry. “Doctor? Are you alright?”

     Relief flooded him. “Frank!” The Time Lord hurried to a standing position, grinning at the boy. “Glad to see you're still up and around. Thought we'd lost you back there.” He was pretty relieved Frank was okay; he was been young, younger than most of his companions generally were, and he'd cared about the people lost in the tunnels.

     Before Frank could respond, a loud grunt interrupted him. Some of the pigmen were standing nearby, a couple of humans waiting anxiously in a line between them. The Doctor froze as he suddenly remembered what he'd been doing before he'd gone after Molly, the discovery he'd made about the green blob; it had originated from the planet Skaro. He had no idea how that was even possible, or what it might entail, but he knew that it couldn't be anything good.

     He really, _really_ hoped it didn't mean what he thought it did.

     One of the pigmen grabbed him by the arm and pulled him roughly to his feet. With an angry squeal, it shoved the Doctor into line with the others humans, right beside Frank. The Time Lord watched the pig-creatures through narrowed eyes. They were unintelligent, merely beasts now, but they were taking orders from someone, and he had a horrible feeling he knew who.

     “Doctor?” Frank seemed scared, but he managed to keep his voice fairly steady as he asked, “Where are they taking us?”

     “Dunno,” he answered, gaze still focused on the pigmen. They didn't seem to be intelligent enough to follow their conversation, and they clearly didn't know who he was. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been grouped with the humans.

     Frank's tone took on a hard edge as he said, “Listen Doctor, you've known more about what's going on than the rest of us from the start. If you know what's happening, just tell me, please.”

     The Doctor shot a glance at the kid, surprised by his shrewdness. His lips quirked into a little half-smirk, which faded as he remembered just who they might be facing. Frank was too young to have to face this kind of danger – then again, to him, they were all too young. “I think we're being taken to be made like them.” He nodded towards one of the pigmen, who glared back at him with narrowed, beady eyes. “Why, I'm still not sure, but someone seems to need them for something, and I've got a feeling your Mr. Diagoras is part of it.”

     “Like them?” Frank's voice went a little shrill with surprise. “You mean they used to be human?” The Doctor was impressed to hear both horror and sympathy in his tone. The kid had a good heart.

     The Doctor started to answer, but one of the pigmen squealed angrily at him. He settled for watching them in silence, mind racing as he tried to figure out a way out of here.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The pigmen led them into a wider area in the sewers where numerous tunnels intersected. With angry squeals and rough shoving, the pigmen herded the humans and the Doctor into a bunched group in the center. A familiar **whirring** echoed from further down one of the tunnels; the Doctor felt a cold shiver of dread at the sound.

     A Dalek rolled out of the tunnel, eyestalk a cold, gleaming blue. The Doctor fought back the sudden blaze of hatred, the feeling that his veins had suddenly been set on fire. It took everything he had not to lunge at the metal monster with nothing but his bare hands. There had been days he'd thought that the destruction of his people had been worth it, if only he'd been able to rid the universe of those heartless creatures.

     But it wasn't memories of the Time War that haunted him now as he looked at the Dalek – instead, flashes of a cold white wall, of a wretched beach, a crying woman, flashed in his mind. The Daleks had taken the one who'd mattered most to him, and they kept coming back for more. It wasn't  _fair!_ He could feel the Oncoming Storm raging inside him, but he forced it back as much as he could. Frank and the other captives needed him right now.

     If the Dalek saw him, he'd be exterminated without a second thought. He needed somewhere to hide, but the smooth tunnels offered no shelter, and the pigmen were crowded around too tightly to get past. His sonic screwdriver and anything else of use were in his coat pocket, and he'd left his coat upstairs. There was nowhere to run to and no way to fight.

     The Dalek glared out coldly at the humans, letting out a metallic shriek. “THE PRI-SO-NERS WILL FORM A LINE. MO-OVE! MO-OVE!”

     The pigmen began roughly shoving them into a line against the wall, thrusting the Doctor into a spot at the end beside Frank. The Dalek started at the other end of the line, eyestalk focused on the first person in line. Another Dalek glided in from the tunnel. “RE-PORT,” it ordered the first Dalek.

     The first Dalek wheeled his eyestalk around to face the newcomer. “THESE ARE STRONG SPEC-I-MENS. THEY WILL HELP THE DA-LEK CAUSE. WHAT IS THE STATUS OF THE FINAL EX-PER-I-MENT?” The Doctor’s ears perked at that last part. The Daleks were planning something, and he was pretty sure it went further than turning humans into animals.

     The new Dalek reported, “THE DA-LEK-ANIUM IS IN PLACE. THE ENERGY CON-DUC-TOR IS NOW COM-PLETE.”

     “THEN I WILL EXTRACT PRI-SO-NERS FOR SEL-EC-TION.” The first Dalek whirled around to face the prisoners. Two pigmen dragged forward one of the prisoners, an older man who looked at the Dalek with wide, terrified eyes. The Dalek reached out towards his face with the plunger, suction cup stretching over the man’s face for a moment before it drew back. “READING BRAIN WAVES. LOW IN-TELL-I-GENCE.”

     The man forgot his fear long enough to be insulted. “You calling me stupid?” he demanded roughly.

     “SI-LENCE!” The Dalek ordered shrilly. The man snapped his mouth shut, staring at the Dalek with wide eyes. It turned to the pigmen. “THIS ONE WILL BE-COME A PIG SLAVE. NEXT!”

     The man began struggling, energy renewed at the Dalek’s words. “No, let go of me. I'm not becoming one of them!” But the pigmen were too strong and, still protesting, the man was dragged away. The Doctor felt a rush of guilt, but for the moment at least there was nothing he could do.

     The Dalek began going through the whole line, scanning all of the prisoners. Those of low intelligence were sent away to become pigmen, but those of high intelligence were taken aside, to be led elsewhere when the scans were done. The Doctor guessed that they were to be used for this “final experiment,” whatever that was.

     Soon, only he and Frank were left to scan. The pigmen yanked Frank before the Dalek, who scanned him the same as the others. “SUPERIOR IN-TELL-I-GENCE.” Frank was shoved into line with the other people with high intelligence. Now it was the Doctor’s turn. He considered a last-ditch effort at running, but the pigmen were too strong. If he was getting out of here, it was by talking his way out.

     The pigmen dragged him before the Dalek. He fought back the cold, burning hatred and grinned pleasantly at the creature. “Hello again. You know, you should really train your men better,” he quipped, nodding towards the pigmen. “They’re only supposed to bring you humans.”

     The Dalek jerked back sharply at the sight of him, eyestalk waving wildly. “IT IS THE DOC-TOR!” He felt a rush of grim satisfaction at the Dalek’s obvious fear. When the creature calmed, it began advancing toward him. “EX-TER-MI-NATE!”

     “Well, hold on now, just a tic,” the Doctor said quickly, holding up both hands.“There’s no need for that.”

     “AND WHY IS THAT?” The Dalek asked suspiciously.

     The Doctor’s thoughts raced with something to reply with. “Well, I’m not armed for one thing. For another, you’re looking for people of high intelligence, aren’t you? Superior intelligence. And who’s got greater intelligence than a Time Lord, eh?”

     The Dalek’s eyestalk looked him up and down, but the creature itself was silent. If he didn’t know better, he would have said it was _uncertain_. It exchanged a quick glance with the other Dalek, who said reluctantly, “DA-LEK SEC WILL WANT TO USE HIM.”

     The first Dalek hesitated before lowering his eyestalk, as though in defeat. “VE-RY WELL. BRING THE DOC-TOR TO THE LA-BOR-A-TOR-Y FOR THE FINAL EX-PER-I-MENT.”

     The pigmen grabbed the Doctor again and shoved him into line with the prisoners of high intelligence. Frank had watched the exchange with the Doctor with surprise, but he didn’t remark on the Dalek’s familiarity with him. Instead, he asked quietly, “Do you know where they’re taking us?”

     “I’m not sure,”he admitted. “But when we’re there we’ll be able to find out more about this final experiment of theirs.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     They were led up from the sewers into what seemed like a great laboratory. Two more Daleks waited inside. One was the same dull coloring as the other two, but the other was a sleek black, marking him as a commander. The Doctor’s stomach clenched as he recognized it as one of the Cult of Skaro, which meant the three other Daleks were probably from the Cult as well. The four Daleks to escape the Time War, the ones responsible for Canary Wharf, for losing Rose. The Doctor clenched his fists, fighting back the rage, the pain of his loss, the utter hatred he felt for these Daleks in particular.

     He was so worked up, it took him a few moments to notice anything off about the Daleks in front of him. The three other Daleks were watching their leader in silence, but the sleek black Dalek, Dalek Sec if he remembered correctly, was trembling wildly, shifting back and forth, with smoke emitting from his metal suit. The Doctor felt a thrill of fear. This, whatever was happening to Sec, was the final experiment, he was sure of it.

     “RE-PORT,” one of the first two Daleks, Dalek Caan he believed, ordered the Dalek with Sec, Dalek Thay.

     “DA-LEK SEC IS IN THE FI-NAL STAGE OF EV-O-LU-TION,” Thay reported. The Doctor blinked at Thay in shock, turning to look at Sec. If there was one thing a Dalek would never, ever do, it was change or evolve at all from the pure Dalek form. Something was very, very wrong here.

     “SCAN HIM,” the last Dalek, Dalek Jast commanded.“PRE-PARE FOR BIRTH.”

     “Birth?” The Doctor repeated, now wildly confused. He shuffled through line to stand beside Dalek Caan. “Caan, it is Caan, right, what’s up with your buddy Sec over there?”

     “THE DOC-TOR WILL NOT SPEAK!” The Dalek insisted shrilly.

     He threw up his hands, backed up a few steps to seem nonthreatening. “Hey, I’m just asking a question here.”

     “THE DOC-TOR WILL BEAR WIT-NESS,” Dalek Jast said a little smugly.

     The Doctor spun around to face Jast instead, sensing he was more likely to talk. “Alright then, witness to what?”

     “THIS IS THE DAWN OF A NEW AGE.”

     He felt a shiver of dread at those words, but forced it back. “Yeah, meaning…?”

     “WE ARE THE ONLY FOUR DA-LEKS IN EX-IS-TANCE, SO THE SPECIES MUST E-VOLVE A LIFE OUTSIDE THE SHELL. THE CHIL-DREN OF SKA-RO MUST WALK AGAIN.”

     The explanation only served to baffle him further. “Evolve? But you lot don’t evolve, not ever. Otherwise you wouldn’t be pure Daleks anymore!” He spoke the words _pure Dalek_ with as much contempt as he could manage.

     Jast didn’t answer, for at that moment Dalek Sec’s metal shell stopped smoking, and the light faded from his eyestalk. The Doctor watched in nervous anticipation as Dalek Sec’s shell opened, and a human-shaped form struggled it’s way out. As it straightened, he could see that it had the head and hands similar to a Dalek mutant, with one eye and tentacles on its head, but it was shaped like a bipedal human, and it wore a black suit.

     In a slow, halting tone, softer than that of its purer companions, Sec announced, “I… am a human…Dalek. I am… your future.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     The Doctor stared at the human Dalek in shock. He thought he’d known Daleks. He’d understood how they’d worked. Motivated by hate and a cruel cleverness, they would go to any lengths to exterminate those not Dalek. But this evolution… it went against everything he knew about the Dalek race. There had been one time, only one other time that a Dalek had acted so against its nature; when it had soaked up the DNA of Rose Tyler.

     Wait… the DNA of a human. The last time it had only been one touch, and that had been enough to make the Dalek hesitate from killing. Dalek Sec had just made himself 50% human. What kind of changes could that entail?

     He stepped forward out of line, walking up to Dalek Sec. “Well,” he said lightly, “I have to say, this is new.”

     Sec looked at him in surprise, but after a few moments he bowed his head slightly. “Doctor,”he greeted in his raspy tone.

     Dalek Thay, who apparently hadn't noticed him yet, advanced menacingly towards him. “THE EN-E-MY OF THE DA-LEKS! EX-TER-MI-NATE!”

     The human Dalek held up a hand, halting Dalek Thay. “Wait,” he ordered softly.

     The Doctor tried not to feel too hopeful about Sec’s hesitation. “Well then. A new form of Dalek. Fascinating and very clever.”

     “The Cult of Skaro… escaped your slaughter,” Sec explained, gaze focused shrewdly on the Time Lord.

     Cold hatred burned in him at the callous mention of Canary Wharf, but he pushed it back. “How did you end up in 1930?” he asked instead.

     “Emergency Temporal Shift,” Sec admitted.

     The Doctor scoffed, hatred leaking through in his tone. “Oh, that must have roasted up your power cells, yeah?” Loathing and condensation dripped from his tone as he remarked, “Time was, four Daleks could have conquered the world but instead your skulking away, hidden in the dark, _experimenting._ All of which results in you.”

     Sec blinked back calmly at him, unaffected by the Doctor’s tone. “I am Dalek… in human form.”

     That hope from earlier rose up again. Human and Dalek had proved to be a merciful mix before. Maybe Sec had changed as the last Dalek had. “What does it feel like? You can talk to me, Dalek Sec. It is Dalek Sec, isn’t it? That’s your name? You’ve got a name and a mind of your own. Tell me what you’re thinking right now.

     Sec took in a deep breath, eye gazing curiously at everything around him. “I feel… humanity.”

     The Doctor felt that hope from before growing. “Good, that’s good.

     That hope was dashed as Sec continued, “ I feel… everything we wanted from humanity, which is… ambition, hatred, aggression… and war. Such a… genius for war.”

     The Doctor began shaking his head. “No, that’s not what humanity means…”

     Sec cut him off. “I think… it does. At heart, this species… is so very Dalek.”

     Bitter disappointment churned in the Time Lord, but he forced himself to remain outwardly casual. “Well, your loss I suppose. If that’s all you think humanity is, then you’re missing a lot.”

     “Maybe so,” Sec agreed surprisingly easily, “but… perhaps there is more you can teach us… Doctor.”

     He blinked at the human Dalek, completely stunned. All he could manage was a flat, “What?” The other Daleks shifted, seeming almost uncomfortable with their leader’s words. That didn’t surprise him; Sec’s words had bordered on blasphemy.

     “We have… everything we need for the final experiment, but your genius, Doctor, could be… useful,” Sec explained, one-eyed glance focused calmly on the Doctor.  
     The Time Lord bit back a fierce retort. Maybe there was a bargain to be found in this. He straightened fully, feeling a small flicker of satisfaction when he rose up taller than the human Dalek. “Alright then, Sec. I’ll help if you promise to let them go.” He nodded towards the people of high intelligence who were still lined up by the pigmen.

     Dalek Thay let out a shrill shriek. “DA-LEKS DO NOT RE-LEASE PRI-SO-NERS!”

     “Tough,” the Doctor retorted sharply. “Until they walk you won’t get any help from me.”

     Sec watched him with a narrowed eye for a few moments before dipping his head. “Very well. The… prisoners will be escorted to the… edge of the sewers.” When the Daleks stared at him in stubborn silence, his voice took on a sharp edge. “Now. That was an order.”

     Dalek Caan stared at him for a few moments, then lowered his eyestalk in defeat. “I O-BEY.” He turned to the pigmen, nodding at them. They began dragging the prisoners back towards the sewers.

     The Doctor would’ve been worried if one of the Daleks had gone with the prisoners, but a mere two pigmen had gone, and the prisoners could easily overpower them if needed. Satisfied, and more than a little hopeful, he whirled around to face Dalek Sec. “Well then,” he said cheerfully, “let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, a quick note, since I have to be somewhere in a few minutes. I am going to be in Disney all next week, so you can expect some extra updates this week, but not many next week.


	14. Evolution of the Daleks: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly tries to evacuate Hooverville and help the Doctor.

     Molly, Tallulah, and Lazlo made it to Hooverville before it got dark. There wasn’t any sign of the pigmen yet, but Molly wasn’t taking any chances. The moment she arrived, she asked to be taken to Solomon. Lazlo had covered his face with a hat, a turned-up coat collar, and a scarf, but he still seemed nervous around the great mass of people in Hooverville.

     Solomon was quick to greet them, but he was less welcoming of the news they brought. “You’re good to warn us, but there’s no way we can run. Hooverville’s the place of last resort; there’s nowhere left for any of us to go. We’ll have to stand and fight, we ain’t got no other choice.”

     “There’s got to be somewhere,” Molly said desperately. “This isn’t permanent, it’s just until we can save the Doctor and get this whole thing sorted out. You’ve got to scatter, you’re sitting ducks out here in the park. Hide out in the city alleyways, flee out to the country, do whatever you have to. We have to hurry, there isn’t much time.”

     “But isn’t there a way to reason with these creatures?” Solomon asked.

     Tallulah let out a snort. “Reason with ‘em? Have you seen those guys?” She turned automatically to Lazlo with a quick, “No offense,” then turned back to a bemused Solomon. “They took my Lazlo, the sweetest guy I ever met, and they tried to turn him into a pig.”

     Solomon turned to Lazlo with renewed interest, eyes narrowing as he took in his face. The pigman said in a low, husky voice, “She’s right. They would have taken my mind too if I’d given them the chance. There’s no talking to or reasoning with them. They’re monsters, and they’ll make monsters of us all.”

     “You’ve got no choice, Solomon,” Molly practically pleaded with the man. “If you stay here, you will die, and if you try to fight, you’re going to lose people. Running’s the only option.”

     Solomon looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. “You really believe in this Doctor guy, don't you?”

     “Completely,” Molly answered without hesitation. Her own certainty surprised her for a moment; she'd only known the man for a few days. But those days had taught her more than years of conversation ever could, and she knew that no matter what, the Doctor would do what it took to save people in need.

     The Hooverville leader continued giving her that evaluating look a few moments longer before giving a weary sigh. “I already lost Frank. I abandoned him out of fear. I won't lose cost more people their lives out of pride. We're running.”

     Molly released the breath she'd been holding, and Tallulah and Lazlo shared a relieved glance.

**SCENEBREAK**

     It took a few hours to clear out Hooverville. People were reluctant to leave, but Molly eventually convinced Lazlo to show them his face, and that was enough to scare them into agreeing. Some were sent to hide in the city itself, while others headed out to hitch rides on trains or run cross-country. Most planned to return to Hooverville in a few day's time; none of their escapes would work long-term. They had a deadline, but for now, everyone was safe.

     By the time it was dark, just a few people, Solomon, Tallulah, Lazlo, and Molly were left in Central Park. Solomon was just getting the last party ready to leave when a sentry let out a warning call. Solomon grabbed for a discarded rifle, and Molly stiffened instinctively.

     The sentry, a boy even younger than Frank, hurried into camp. “There's people coming, boss!”

     Molly relaxed. There was no way the sentry would be this calm if he'd seen the pigmen, and Lazlo had said the masters looked strange and metal. She felt a rush of hope. Maybe the Doctor had managed to get free.

     A few moments later, a group of worn and wearied people came trudging into camp, looking winded from running. At their head, to Molly's surprise, was someone she hadn't thought she'd see again. “Frank!” She hurried to give the boy a quick hug, then hurried to get out of the way as Solomon came in to give him a huge bear hug.

     “We thought we'd lost you, boy,” Solomon said as he pulled back, grinning with relief at the young man.

     Frank grinned back. “Me too, for a bit, but the Doctor convinced 'em to let us go.”

     “Convinced who?” Molly asked.

     “Some sorta robot or something. He called them 'Daleks.'”

     Lazlo let out a low growl. “The masters,” he confirmed for Molly.

     She frowned thoughtfully. “The Doctor's never mentioned Daleks before,” she mused.

     Frank shrugged. “He seemed to know them. Whoever they were, they didn't like him. The other three tried to kill him, but their leader stopped him.”

     Solomon laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Slow down, son. Tell us what happened.”

     Molly made a quick decision. “Actually, Solomon, you and the others should get going. If Frank and the others managed to get here as slow as they're going, the pigmen can't be far behind.” Solomon started to protest, but she cut him off. “Just get the rest out of here. They need you, Solomon.”

     He gave her a searching look, then nodded.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Solomon headed out with the last party, which consisted of the last citizens of Hooverville and all of the returned prisoners, excluding Frank. He'd insisted on staying in helping. "The Doctor saved my life," he'd told Molly firmly. "I'd like to repay the favor, if I can."

     Molly had hoped he'd follow Solomon where he'd be safe, but in the end she reluctantly allowed him to stay.

     "So what now?" Tallulah asked after Solomon's group left.

     "Now we get the Doctor," she replied wearily. The pathologist was getting increasingly anxious about the whole thing. What if she'd been wrong about sending people out of Hooverville? What if she'd just put them in more danger? This is why she hated being in charge. She never knew whether she was doing the right thing.

     Molly still had the Doctor's coat draped over her lap. She slipped a hand absentmindedly into a pocket, starting slightly when her hand brushed against metal. _The sonic screwdriver._ She pulled it out, twirling it slightly in her hand. That screwdriver had solved a lot of their problems before; maybe it would be useful now. The pathologist set it beside her and turned back to his pockets. Maybe something else in there could help too.

     A quick search revealed quite an impressive amount of clutter. Tallulah was sitting on a barrel across from her with Lazlo crouching beside her. They watched her search with raised eyebrows. “Sheesh, how big are those pockets?” Tallulah asked.

     Her eyes widened as Molly shoved her entire arm down the pocket, up to her shoulder. The pathologist gave her a sheepish look. “They're bigger on the inside,” she explained apologetically. She managed to pull out several useless or alien bobbles and bits, but the one thing of interest she found was a familiar leather wallet. _The psychic paper,_ she realized.

     Suddenly, angry squealing sounded from the distance. Molly froze. _They're coming. We're out of time._

     An idea came to her – a long shot, a wild hunch, but worth a try. She closed her fingers around the leather wallet, concentrating on what she needed it to say, then turned to Tallulah. “Tallulah, listen, there's something I need you to do. Take this,” she handed her the psychic paper, “and do what it says. Please, just trust me.”

     Tallulah looked at her with wide eyes, but after sharing a quick glance with Lazlo, she nodded. Molly felt a rush of relief. “Good. Listen, just hide in here.” She drew back the flap of one of the tents. 

     Tallulah gave her a quick, scared glance, then drew her into a hug. “Good luck.” With that, she, Lazlo, and Frank disappeared into the tent, leaving Molly alone in Hooverville.

     She took a deep breath, trying to calm her anxious doubts, before starting off for the edge of the camp. Once at the edge of Hooverville, she could see a small army of pigmen approaching, tusks bared and squealing loudly. She took a few steps forward, hands raised slowly above her hand. “I surrender,” she called out calmly. “I'll come quietly.”

     The pigmen slowed, staring at Molly with blank, confused eyes. A few came up and grabbed her, pinning her arms behind her back. She flinched slightly but didn't struggle. The rest of the pigmen headed into Hooverville, letting out shrill, angry shrieks when they found no one inside. Tallulah, Lazlo, and Frank must have hidden themselves pretty well, for the pigmen came out empty-handed, squealing angrily at her.

     Before they could do anything other than bare their tusks in anger, a strange _whirring_ sounded from overhead. She looked up to see a strange metal robot of sorts floating overhead, a strange eye-stalk gleaming down coldly down at her. “WHERE ARE THE HU-MANS?” it demanded in a shrill, metallic voice.

     Molly guessed that that was one of the Daleks Frank had been talking about. The companion stared up calmly, trying to mask the way her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest. She could only hope she'd made the right choice. “They left. They all left. They ran when they heard about the pigs.”

     The Dalek glared down at her. “BUT YOU STAYED.” It managed to be both statement and question.

     She nodded. “I have something the Doctor needs,” she explained.

     The metal creature jerked back at this. “YOU ARE A COM-PAN-ION OF THE DOC-TOR?”

     “Yes,” she answered clearly, “and I have something of his. Something he'll need in order to help you properly.” Slowly she pulled the sonic screwdriver out of her pocket and held it out for the Dalek to see. She silently hoped it knew what it was, or would believe her description of it.

     The eyestalk focused on the thing metal screwdriver. “THE DOC-TOR'S SONIC DE-VICE!” it shrieked.

     Molly let out a relieved breath. “He needs this to help you,” she repeated clearly. “Take me to him so I can give it to him, and I'll come quietly.” Once she was with the Doctor again, she’d be able to figure out a way to help him, or he’d come up with a plan she could follow. Either way, they’d be better off working together again.

     The Dalek hesitated, shifting back in forth in place, before finally ordering, “THE COM-PAN-ION WILL FOLL-OW.” It turned and started back towards the sewers, not waiting to see if Molly followed; not that she had a choice as the pigmen dragged her after the Dalek. She let out the breath she'd been holding; her part was done. Now all that remained was to reunite with the Doctor, and pray that she hadn't been wrong in her guess.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The Doctor followed Dalek Sec, more than a little intrigued, as he led him into another wing of the lab. “We… tried everything to survive when we found ourselves stranded in this… ignorant age,” Sec explained in his slow, halting way. “First we tried… growing new Dalek embryos but their flesh was too weak.”

     The Doctor felt bitter loathing returning. “Yeah, I found one of your _experiments,_ ” he spat. “Just left to die out there in the dark.”

     Sec nodded, seeming almost sad about the loss. “It… forced us to conclude… what is the greatest resource of this planet – its people.” He switched on a light by the wall, lighting several overhanging lights and revealing several bodies lying on clinical gurneys. The Doctor felt a rush of guilt at the sight; here were more people he’d failed to save.

     Sec drew back the cloth covering one of the bodies. The man’s body lay there cold and still, eyes closed. The Human Dalek stared at him, thoughtful. “We stole them. We stole human beings for our purpose. This…is the extent of the Final Experiment.”

     The Doctor stared down at the man, feeling sick at the thought of what he would be asked to do. “Is he dead?” he asked dully.

     “Near death,” Sec corrected, “with his mind wiped ready to be filled with new ideas.”

     “ _Dalek_ ideas,” he spat, no longer trying to hide his loathing. He’d been wrong, Sec wasn’t any different from the others.

     “The Human-Dalek race,” Sec sighed, almost… _tenderly_. The tone made the Doctor reconsider. Maybe there was something more to Sec after all. Maybe there was still something to hope for.

     “All of these people,” he said softly, looking up at the other bodies, the other people with their lives stolen for the Dalek cause. “How many?”

     Sec followed his gaze. “We have… caverns beyond this storing more… than a thousand.”

     “Is there any way to restore them?” the Doctor had to ask, even though he already knew the answer. “Make them human again?”

     Sec shook his head sadly. “Everything they were has been lost,” he admitted.

     “So they’re like shells. You’ve got empty human beings ready to be converted.” He let out a low whistle. “That’s going to take a hell of a lot of power. This planet hasn’t even split the atom yet. How’re you gonna do it?”

     Dalek Sec looked up at him. His worst enemy in all of the universe smiled, and began to explain. And he found himself listening.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Molly allowed herself to be led roughly through the sewers once again, the pigmen offering no conversation as they dragged her through. They came up through a different ladder this time, which led her up into a fancy-looking building. She had no time to admire the interior, however, for the pigmen quickly pulled her into the elevator. After a few minutes, they arrived.

     She was led into a lab with a wide window view. Two Daleks waited inside, the third having just arrived before Molly and the pigmen. “I FOUND THE DOC-TOR’S COM-PAN-ION,” it told its fellow Daleks. They turned to watch her pass with cold, gleaming eyestalks, then followed her as she went past.

     Molly was led past them into another wing of the lab. The first thing she saw was an alien with one eye and tentacles on its head. It was a strange sight, but the last few days had shown her so many strange sights that it only gave her pause for a moment. That’s when she saw the Doctor, safe and unhurt, wild hair sticking like always. She was surprised at the depth of relief she felt, but she supposed that’s what friends were for. “Doctor!”

     He turned to face her, breaking out in a huge grin. “Molly!” Without warning he wrapped her into a quick hug, which Molly accepted after getting over the shock. The Time Lord pulled back, still grinning as he asked, “How’re things over in Hooverville?”

     “Pretty quiet,” Molly admitted with a smile. “Solomon got everyone out.”

     His grin only increased. “I knew there was a reason I brought you along!”

     Before Molly could do more than blush at the compliment, the tentacled creature from before spoke. “You mean… no one in Hooverville… has been captured or killed?”

     They both turned to face the creature. “That’s right,” Molly replied cautiously. She wasn’t sure what he was or what his part in this was, but the Doctor didn’t seem too worried about him, so maybe he was on their side.

     He let out a sigh, almost looking relieved. “That is… good. There is no more… need for bloodshed. We have what we need.”

     The Doctor blinked at him in surprise. “You think death is meaningless?” There was heavy irony in his tone. Behind him, the Daleks shifted nervously.

     The creature nodded. “Humans… for all their faults, they show great courage.”

     “And that’s good?” the Doctor asked incredulously.

     “That’s excellent,” the creature insisted. “We have… much to gain from humanity. I am Dalek Sec, the first… human Dalek, and I have learned from our founder’s mistakes.”

     If anything, this just made the Doctor even more baffled. “I’m sorry, did you just say your founder made a _mistake?!_ ”

     Before Sec could reply, one of the Daleks gave an angry shriek. “THAT IS IN-CORR-ECT!”

     Another one added, “DA-LEKS ARE SU-PREME!”

     Sec shook his head. “No, not anymore.”

     “BUT THAT IS OUR PUR-POSE!” the second Dalek insisted.

     “Then our purpose is wrong!” Sec snapped. “Where has our… quest for supremacy led us? To this. Hiding in the sewers on a primitive world. Just four… of us left. If we do not change now then we deserve extinction.”

     Molly didn’t understand entirely what was going on, but she got the gist enough to understand that Sec was trying to change his species, and his species didn’t seem to want to cooperate. She slid closer to the Doctor. “What are we doing?” she asked quietly.

     “Sec is building a new species of human Daleks,” he explained quickly. “He’s got himself a couple hundred human bodies with their minds wiped, and he wants to fill them with Dalek DNA and Dalek minds, but keep the element of humanity.”

     “And we’re going to stop him?” Molly asked.

     The Time Lord shook his head. “We’re going to help him,” he corrected. “We can’t do anything to reverse what’s been done to those people, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen a Dalek evolve past killing. I have to hope this means they can change, and change for the better.” He almost seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as her. She sensed he and these Daleks had a pretty heavy history, but she didn’t ask.

     Instead, she held out his sonic screwdriver. “Then I guess you’ll need this.”

     He took it with a grin. “Molly Hooper, you are brilliant!” He turned back to Sec. “So, we need to make a human Dalek species in the next eleven minutes before that solar flare comes. Let’s get to work!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's another chapter for you. I'm trying to get as many out as I can before I leave on Saturday. You'll notice further departures from canon here, and I'm not done yet.


	15. Evolution of the Daleks: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor tries to help create the Dalek-Human race.

     The Doctor and Dalek Sec worked for several minutes, fiddling with wires and syringes and the sonic screwdriver, scientific babble being traded between the two. Molly understood the gist of it, but she made no effort to understand further. Instead, she focused on the Daleks, who were watching almost nervously, shifting uneasily in place. One of them had slunk off a while ago; she'd tried to point it out to Dalek Sec, but he'd passed it off as nothing to worry about. She wasn't so sure.

     Finally, they finished their work. Everything was set up, and all that remained was a simple command. “Start... the line feeds,” Sec ordered his Daleks.

     The Dalek obliged, switching something on in the machinery. A solution began flowing from the tubes to the bodies. The Doctor looked impressed. “There goes the gene solution.”

     “The life blood,” Sec agreed happily. He and the Doctor shared a triumphant grin, and Molly allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe they were in the clear.

     And of course, that's when it all went wrong.

     An alarm sounded from the machine. The Doctor's smile vanished. “What's that?”

     Dalek Sec seemed no more knowledgeable than his enemy. “What's happening? Is there a malfunction?” he demanded of his Daleks, who made no reply. “Answer me!”

     Before they could, the Doctor cried out, “No, no, no! They’re overriding the gene feed!” He hurried to the controls in a desperate attempt to reverse the changes.

     “Impossible,” Sec insisted, though he looked seriously shaken. “They cannot disobey orders.”

     One of the Daleks advanced towards the Doctor, whisk-like appendage pointed threateningly at him. “THE DOC-TOR WILL STEP AWAY FROM THE CON-TROLS,” it ordered. The whisk must have been some sort of gun, for the Doctor slowly raised his hands and backed away.

     “Stop!” Sec ordered sharply. “You will not fire!”

     “HE IS AN EN-EM-Y OF THE DA-LEKS,” the Dalek in front of the Doctor insisted.

     “AND SO ARE YOU!” added a second Dalek, who had turned to point his gun-arm at Sec.

     “I am your commander!” Sec insisted angrily. “I am Dalek Sec.”

     “YOU HAVE LOST YOUR AU-THO-RIT-Y,” the third Dalek informed him.

     The one with a gun pointed at Sec added, “YOU ARE NO LONGER A DA-LEK.”

     “What have you done with the gene feed?” the Doctor asked sharply.

     “THE NEW BODIES WILL BE 100% DA-LEK,” the third Dalek explained smugly.

     “No! You can't do this,” Sec pleaded desperately.

     The Daleks ignored his pleads. One turned to the pigmen, who waited by the wall behind Molly. “PIG SLAVES, RESTRAIN DA-LEK SEC, THE DOC-TOR, AND HIS COM-PAN-ION.”

     The creatures obeyed. Before Molly could react, they'd grabbed her by the shoulders and had pushed her back against the wall, bringing the Doctor and Dalek Sec next to her. They were forced to watch as the Daleks regained control of the machinery.

     Sec watched them with horror in his eye. “My Daleks... I should have guessed.” He turned to the Doctor. “I am... sorry, Doctor. I am so sorry.”

     The Doctor didn't reply. Molly watched his expression uneasily. She'd seen him angry before, with the carrionites and the carjackers. She'd seen how dangerous he could be when prompted. But the dark look he was giving the Daleks wasn't one of anger – no, this was _hatred,_ pure, raw hatred the likes she'd never seen before. For a few moments it terrified her that the man who'd saved so many lives and done so many great things could hold so much hate inside.

     She struggled experimentally against the pigmen's grip, but they were too strong. Dalek Sec and the Doctor didn't seem to be having much more luck. One of the Daleks turned to them. “YOU WILL STAND AS WIT-NESS FOR THE NEW AGE OF THE DA-LEKS!” it declared triumphantly. The Doctor glared coldly at the metal creature. He gave a last, violent jerk, trying to rip free from the pigmen's grasp, but to no avail.

     There was nothing to do but wait.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Several minutes passed. There were only moments left before the solar flare struck. The Doctor knew the pigmen's grip was too strong to pull out of, but he had an idea. It had taken a few minutes to discreetly root through the pockets of his coat, which Molly had returned to him and he was now wearing. He had to work slowly, so the pigmen or the Daleks didn't notice, but finally he was able to find the radio and his sonic screwdriver. Just a bit of fiddling with the radio...

     “SO-LAR FLARE A-PPROACH-ING IN 30 SECONDS,” Dalek Caan announced.

     He had to hurry. Quickly, he brought the sonic screwdriver to the radio and turned them on. The gentle _whirr_ of the screwdriver had been amplified tenfold, letting out an ear-piercing screech. He wasn't as badly affected, but the pigmen had released him and Molly in order to slam their hands over their ears.

     There were only moments left. The Doctor grabbed Molly's hand. “Come on!” He led her to the lift they'd come up from, forcing it open with the sonic screwdriver. The pigmen ran after him with angry squeals, but he was able to close the doors behind them before the pig slaves could reach them. The lift began its slow descent down. For now, at least, they were safe.

     He let out a breathless, relieved chuckle, then turned to Molly. “You alright?”

     His companion nodded, looking slightly dazed at their haphazard escape. “What do we do now?” she asked.

     “We'll need to strip the Daleka-” he was cut off as a sudden shudder ran through the building. His eyes widened in horror; he knew what that meant. “Oh no, no, no, no, no!”

     “Doctor? What's wrong?” Molly asked, bewildered by his behavior.

     He ran a distracted hand through his wild hair, a little quirk this incarnation of him favored. “That was the solar flare. We're too late to stop it.” Dread washed over him as he fully realized what that meant. A whole army of humans with Dalek brains, bred to kill without mercy or reason.

     Molly hesitated. “Er, actually, there's still a chance.”

     He looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

     She seemed even more embarrassed now. With a red face she mumbled, “Well, I realized that the Empire State Building looked like it was just about finished, and the Daleks needed whatever needed to be done by tonight. So I left instructions for Tallulah, Frank, and Lazlo telling them to use the psychic paper to get inside and find a way to either stop the construction or undo it.”

     The Doctor blinked at her a few times in shock, stunned into silence, before breaking out into a huge grin. “Remember what I said about you being brilliant earlier? I really need to say it more often.”

     Molly blushed, but mostly she just looked relieved he'd approved of her idea. In a few moments, the lift stopped, letting them off on Floor One, where a grim scene awaited them..

     Tallulah and Lazlo were dragging an unresponsive body out from the outside railing. The Doctor's hearts froze when he recognized it. _Frank._

     He and Molly were at the boy's side in a moment. The pathologist did a quick check for vital signs, but after a moment she looked up at the Doctor with a sad shake of her head. “He's dead,” she said softly.

     He stared at the body blankly, guilt and horror raging inside him. _He was just a kid!_ he wanted to scream. _He didn't deserve this!_ Out loud, all he managed was a dull, “What happened?”

     Tallulah let out a sniff as she explained, “We did what that paper thing said. We found some blueprints and figured out we were s'pposed to pull the planks off the tip. Frank went up to do it, b-but the whole place got roasted by lightning, and Frank...” she trailed off, lip trembling as she looked down at the boy she'd watched die. She turned suddenly to wrap her arms around Lazlo, letting out a muffled sob into his shoulder. Molly looked at Frank's body with wide, horrified eyes, while Lazlo just looked at him sadly.

     The Doctor felt a rush of grief for the kid. He'd made a point to care about the victims of the Daleks, and he'd been smart. When the Depression ended in a few years he might have had a great future. Now all of that was gone, because of him. Because he hadn't stopped the Daleks, because he never could stop the Daleks. Every time they walked away while he kept losing those around him. It wasn't fair.

     Through his grief, an idea came to him. A last, desperate hope, but it might save all of their lives.

     He turned quickly to Tallulah, who was still holding onto Lazlo. “Tallulah,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “This is important. When the lightning struck, did it go through Frank before it hit the tip?”

     She nodded, giving a small sniffle. “Yeah, it sorta went through his chest straight to the metal. Why the hell does that matter?”

     A chance. A small chance, but he had to hope. "I think Frank may have just saved our lives," he said quietly.

     Tallulah glared at him. "How'd'ya mean? He didn't get any of that metal offa there!"

     They would need some sort of open space, somewhere to get the Daleks' attention and draw them out. "The theatre!" he realized aloud. "It’s right above them, and, what, it’s gone midnight?" He whipped back around to face Tallulah, who was staring at him like he'd gone nuts. "Tallulah, can you get us inside?"

     She stared at him suspiciously. "Don't see why not, but why you asking?"

     There was no time to explain. The Time Lord jumped to his feet. "Come on!" He raced off, not waiting to see if the others followed.

     If he was wrong, Manhattan was doomed.

**SCENEBREAK**

     When they arrived in the darkened theatre, the Doctor stepped out among the seats. "This should do it. Here we go." He held up his sonic screwdriver, flicking it on and off experimentally. Molly wasn't sure what was going through his head, but she was slightly worried about how Frank's death might have hit him. He always seemed to blame himself for everything, and Frank was so young.

     Tallulah shivered. "There ain’t nothin’ more creepy than a theatre in the dark." She glared at the Doctor. "Listen Doc, I'm sorry your friend died, but this is no time to go losing your head."

     The Doctor steadily ignored her, still fiddling with his screwdriver. Suddenly, Lazlo gave a groan. Without warning he collapsed into one of the chairs, panting heavily. Tallulah hurried into a seat next to him, clasping his hands in hers. "Lazlo, what’s wrong?" she asked fearfully.

     He laughed lightly, trying to act fine, but Molly could see sweat shining on his forehead and could hear his labored breathing. "Nothing. It’s just so hot."

     Tallulah's eyes widened. "But…it’s freezing in here." She turned anxiously to the Time Lord. "Doctor, what’s happening to him?"

     He shook his head. "Not now, Tallulah, sorry."

     Molly slipped quietly to his side, watching him anxiously. "What are you doing?" she asked quietly.

     He gave her a grim smile. "If the Daleks are going to war, they’ll wanna find their number one enemy. I’m just telling them where I am." With that, he raised his sonic screwdriver high and turned it on, letting the _whirring_ echo loudly through the empty theatre.

     Tallulah spun around to look at him with wide eyes. “What're ya, nuts?! What are you callin' 'em here for?!”

     “Not now, Tallulah,” he said with more of an edge to his tone.

**SCENEBREAK**

     It wouldn't be long until they arrived. The Doctor turned to Molly. “Molly, take Tallulah and Lazlo and head back to the TARDIS. It'll be safer there.”

     Molly turned to look at Tallulah and Lazlo, who were sitting together in the seats, talking quietly, then looked back at the Doctor. “We should stay and help,” she said.

     His eyes narrowed. “It's not safe, the Daleks'll kill you.”

     “And they won't kill you?” she challenged quietly. Helping the people in Hooverville had changed something for her. She knew that if it came down to it, the Doctor could use some help, even if he said he didn't.

     He looked at her, frustrated, but before he could protest further, the doors to the threatre burst open. A swarm of the human Daleks pushed inside, flanking in the small group. Molly moved instinctively closer to the Doctor's side, and Tallulah gripped Lazlo's hands tighter. For several moments, the human Daleks did nothing other than stand there. “Where are the Dalek masters?” Lazlo asked in a low voice.

     Before the Doctor could reply, there was a loud explosion from the stage. Molly and the others ducked back behind the seats, shielding their eyes from the light and smoke. The thunderous noise began to fade, and Molly slowly raised her head above the seats. Two of the Daleks had blasted holes through the wall, which they now glided through, dragging a chained Dalek Sec after them. They swung their eyestalks around to glare at the Time Lord. “THE DOC-TOR WILL STAND BEFORE THE DA-LEKS!”

     The Doctor turned to give Molly a final look. It held a warning; _Don't interfere._ Fear seized her as she wondered exactly what he was planning, but she trusted his judgment. He turned and started walking on the tops of the seats until he was in front of the stage.

     The Dalek glared down at him. “YOU WILL DIE, DOC-TOR. IT IS THE BE-GI-NNING OF A NEW AGE.”

     The other Dalek added, “PLANET EARTH WILL BECOME NEW SKA-RO.”

     The Doctor glared at them with cold hatred. In a disgusted tone he snarled, “Oh, and what a world. With anything just the slightest bit different ground into the dirt.” He nodded towards the degraded human Dalek on the stage. “That’s Dalek Sec. Don’t you remember? The cleverest Dalek ever and look what you’ve done to him. Is that your new empire? Hmm? Is that the foundation for a whole new civilization?”

     Sec looked up tiredly at the Daleks who had betrayed him. “My Daleks…just understand this. If you choose death and destruction... then death and destruction will choose you.”

     “INCORRECT!” the first Dalek insisted. “WE WILL ALWAYS SUR-VIVE!”

     “NOW WE WILL DE-STROY OUR GREATEST E-NE-MY, THE DOC-TOR,” the other Dalek added shrilly.

     “But he can help you,” Sec insisted.

     “THE DOC-TOR MUST DIE!”

     Sec was beginning to sound desperate. “No, I beg you, don't!”

     The Dalek ignored him. “EX-TER-MI-NATE!”

     It fired at the Doctor, but at the last moment Sec stood in the way of his blast. He crumpled instantly to the ground, dead. Molly was stunned by the suddenness. The last hope of a dying race, and they'd kill him without a thought.

     What she felt, however, was nothing compared to the Doctor's reaction. He glared up at the Daleks with rage burning in his eyes. There was something so incredibly dangerous about him right then. “Your own leader! The only creature who might have led you out of the darkness and you destroyed him!” He whirled around to face the human Daleks, who stared stoically back at him. “Do you see what they did? Huh? You see what a Dalek really is?” He turned back to the Daleks, throwing his words tauntingly at them. “If I’m gonna die, let’s give the new boys a shot. What do you think, eh? The Dalek-Humans. Their first blood. Go on, baptize them.” The Time Lord threw his arms out wide, inviting the attack, inviting death.

     Molly watched with horror as he offered himself as sacrifice. She started to get up to stop him, but then she remembered the look he'd given her. _Don't interfere._ Uncertainly, she lowered back behind the seats. The Doctor had a plan – or so she hoped. She had to believe he did, or they were all lost.

     The Dalek turned to its troops. “DALEK-HUMANS, TAKE AIM.”

     The human Daleks pointed their weapons at the Doctor, who continued to glare defiance at the Daleks. “What are you waiting for?” he taunted. “Give the command!”

     “EX-TER-MI-NATE!”

     Molly jerked instinctively towards the Doctor, still hoping to stop him somehow, but there was no need. The human Daleks continued to point their weapons at the Doctor, but none of them fired.

     The Dalek tried again. “EX-TER-MI-NATE!” Still nothing. They simply waited, silent and watchful. The Dalek's command became more shrill. “O-BEY! DALEK-HUMANS WILL O-BEY!”

     “Why?”

     The question had come from one of the Dalek-Humans. Everyone turned to stare at him in shock. His expression hadn't changed beyond the dull, obedient stare, but the word itself had been a rebellion. And Daleks did not rebel.

     The Dalek's voice became even higher in fury. “YOU WILL STOP THIS!”

     “But... why?” The same expression, and the same small rebellion. Molly didn't entirely understand what was happening, but she let out a small laugh of relief as she realized that they had stopped the Daleks after all.

     “YOU MUST NOT QUESTION!”

     “But you are not our master,” the Dalek-Human said slowly, deliberately. “And we…we are not Daleks.”

     The Doctor's defiant anger faded, replaced by a triumphant grin. “No, you’re not,” he told the Dalek-Human kindly, “and you never will be.” He turned back to the Daleks, grin becoming fierce in his victory. “Sorry, one of those worthless humans you love to kill got in the way of the lightening strike. Human DNA got all mixed up, more got added in then it should have, right back into the mind. Just that little bit of human freedom.”

     Molly's eyes widened. She remembered the Doctor saying that Frank had saved their lives, and he was right. His sacrifice had saved them all.

     The second Dalek's eyestalk swung wildly between the two rows of Dalek-Humans, and it seemed to be shaking in rage. “IF THEY WILL NOT O-BEY,” it finally shrieked, “THEN THEY MUST DIE!” Without warning it turned and shot the Dalek-Human that had spoken, killing him instantly. That's when all hell broke loose.

     “Get down!” The Doctor ducked, pulling Molly down with him, while Lazlo and Tallulah dove beneath their seats. The Dalek-Humans fired on those who'd tried to be their masters, and after several deaths on their side, they managed to kill both Daleks.

     Molly stared at the hybrids in shock. A few minutes ago, she thought the troops were going to kill them. Now they had saved their lives.

     The Doctor stood, grinning more broadly than Molly had seen in a while. “It’s all right,” the Time Lord said as he approached the Dalek-Humans. “It’s all right. It’s all right. You did it.” He wrapped his arm around one of their shoulders. “You’re free.”

     The Dalek-Human turned to look at him, maybe the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

     Then they all gripped their heads as one, screaming out in pain.

     The Doctor seemed to understand what was happening right away. “No!” He tried to help the Dalek-Human he stood with, but there was nothing to be done. Within a few moments' time, they had all slumped to the ground, dead. A whole species wiped out in a few seconds time. Molly couldn't process it.

     The Doctor sunk down beside one of the bodies. “They can’t! They can’t! They can’t!” He seemed far more worked up than Molly had ever seen him before. An entire species killed in front of his eyes. For a man who blamed himself for everything, that had to kill him.

     Molly hurried over to his side. “What did this?” she asked quietly. She didn't want to push the Doctor too much. Today had shown her more of the Doctor's pain than she'd ever seen before, and she was worried whether this latest blow might be too much for even him to bear.

     He was staring down at the bodies in shock. “They killed 'em,” he breathed. “Rather than let them live. An entire species. Genocide.” The last word seemed especially hard for the Doctor to say. He hung his head in defeat, suddenly looking far older than his years.

     Lazlo spoke from further back in the seats. “Only two of the Daleks have been destroyed. One of the Dalek masters must still be alive.”

     Something in this seemed to give the Doctor more resolve. He stood slowly, a strange light in his eyes. “Oh, yes. In the whole universe, just one.”

     He started off, presumably to find that last Dalek.

     Both afraid and wanting to help, Molly followed.

**SCENEBREAK**

     They arrived back in the lab from before. The last Dalek in the universe was hooked up to a computer with wires and tubes, but he whirled around to face the Doctor and Molly when they entered. The Doctor stared at him, a blank look in his eyes. “Now what?”

     “YOU WILL BE EX-TER-MI-NATE-ED!” The Dalek screeched, pointing its gun threateningly at them.

     The Doctor waved off the response. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Just think about it, Dalek... what was your name?”

     “DA-LEK CAAN.”

     The Doctor took a few steps forward. Molly tensed. What would he do to the one who'd committed genocide and murder, the one he seemed to hate with every fiber in his being? “Dalek Caan,” he began slowly, “your entire species has been wiped out. And now the Cult of Skaro has been eradicated. Leaving only you. Right now you’re facing the only man in the universe who might show you some compassion. ‘Cause I’ve just seen one genocide. I won’t cause another. Caan…let me help you. What do you say?”

     Dalek Caan stared blankly at them for a few moments. Without warning, it let out a cry of “EMERGENCY TEMPORAL SHIFT!” The Dalek wavered like an image on a screen, then was gone completely.

**SCENEBREAK**

     After the Doctor helped restore Lazlo's health, and they had hunted down Solomon to deliver Frank's body and ask for a place for Lazlo to stay, he and his companion headed back to the TARDIS. Before heading back out into time and space, they spent a few minutes looking out into the Manhattan skyline, both wrapped up in individual thought.

     Molly was the first to break the silence. “You offered to help him. After everything he'd done.” It was a question, not an accusation.

     The Doctor's gaze turned dark. “Yeah,” was all he said.

     She'd seen how dark the Doctor could be, how hateful and dangerous, but today had also shown her that he was good, and he would always do his best to help, not hurt. He clearly hated the Daleks with everything he had, but he refused to commit genocide to destroy them.

     Without a word, she held out a hand for the Doctor, which, after a few moments of surprise, he accepted. She didn't know a lot about her friend, but little by little she was learning.

     After a few moments, he said, “You know, there's something I don't get about you Molly Hooper.”

     “Hmm?”

     “You nearly got killed by Daleks a couple times today, and you're not the un-curious type. Un-curious. Is that a word? Anyway, you heard me say I know the Daleks, but you haven't asked me anything about them.”

     Molly could hear the implied question there, and for a few moments she searched for the best way to answer. Finally, she settled on, “You hate them.”

     The Doctor hesitated, so she rushed to say, “Don't worry, you don't have to say anything. You don't need to tell me anything you don't want. I can manage. But,” she added a little nervously, “if you do want to talk, I'm here. To talk, I mean.” She was starting to get flustered. Molly had never been good at talking to people, and she really didn't want to seem too familiar, or too needy, or whatever friends weren't supposed to be. She just want to help.

     The Time Lord looked at her in stunned silence, a warm smile on his lips. After a few moments, he gave Molly's hand a squeeze. “So!” he said as he sprung back, turning towards the blue box behind them, “back to the TARDIS then?”

     Molly smiled and nodded, and followed him back into the blue spaceship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides behind laptop from killing-Frank backlash*
> 
> You lucky people get another chapter today, and an extra-long one at that. And if you're really lucky you might be getting an Interlude in a few minutes.
> 
> So, some heavy emotional stuff for the Doctor, and more canon changes. Yeah, sorry about Frank. I'd already saved Solomon and all of Hooverville - you can't get something for nothing. Sorry Andrew Garfield fans.
> 
> A few of you have asked about The Lazarus Experiment and how that would be worked in. I won't say just yet, but the upcoming Interlude might offer some clarity on that point.


	16. Interlude Two: Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly tries to figure out where she belongs.

     “Doctor?”

     The Time Lord looked up as she entered the console room, giving her a quick smile. “Good morning!” he greeted cheerfully. “Well, I say morning, but who can tell in the Time Vortex?” It was a few days after the Manhattan fiasco, and the days since had been the first calm days she'd had on the TARDIS. She had mostly spent them either catching up on sleep after days on end of running, or hanging around in the library or her room.

     Molly walked gingerly into the room, nervously toying with her request in her mind. She'd been thinking about it for a while now, and she'd finally gotten the resolve to ask. “Er, Doctor, can I ask a favor?”

     He nodded, looking at her curiously. “Sure, go ahead.”

     “I...” She hesitated, uncertain, before continuing, “Can you take me back home?”

     When his face fell, she hastened to add, “Just for a bit, you know, just so I can get some stuff done. I've still got a bit of work to clear up, and I should probably grab some stuff from home...” she trailed off, no longer sure of what she was asking.

     It was true that she loved being on the TARDIS, more than she'd ever thought possible, but Frank's death had shaken her. Not the death itself – while that was still horrible, she was sadly starting to get used to that. It was the fact that he'd died doing something she'd told him to do. She was the one who asked him to put himself in that danger. It was her decision that had killed him. That fact had haunted her through the days after Manhattan, as did the implications that followed. What if she was more hindrance than help for the Doctor? What if she was only getting more people killed, rather than helping like she'd wanted to? She couldn't stay on the TARDIS if that was the case.

     She held back a yawn. The last few days had been spent catching up on sleep, but the first few action-filled on the TARDIS still had her mentally wiped. So much death and action and mindblowing discoveries had left her more tired than she'd ever felt. It was all so amazing, but it was also a bit much. She just wanted a bit to look at her life before the Doctor, what she might have to return to, and evaluate. Besides, the Doctor had only offered for her to stay for a bit. She still wasn't sure what that entitled, and she wanted to be prepared if she had to return to her old life. Even if it could never compare to life on the TARDIS.

     But she wanted to stay. It surprised her how much she wanted to stay on the TARDIS, how much she enjoyed it. She'd always just taken what life had given her, not really protesting anything, not Sherlock's cutting words or her lack of friends. But this life... she _wanted_ this, she wanted to hold onto it, and that wasn't something she was accustomed to.

     She needed time to sort out her tangled thoughts.

     The Doctor forced a smile, but Molly could tell it wasn't genuine. “Of course,” he told her. “I'll take you home.”

     Molly forced a smile back. _But where is home?_ she asked herself silently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's that extra interlude I promised you. It's leading up into my next episode, and it's meant to show Molly's mental state at the moment. A little look into her thoughts.


	17. The Great Game: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly tries to return to her old life for a day.

     Molly stepped out of the TARDIS, almost feeling disappointed as she walked right back into the familiar streets of the city she lived in. Everything seemed so much duller now, quieter and more lifeless. It could never compare to the wonder of the worlds she'd seen.

     The Doctor followed her out. He let out a deep breath, looking out at the great city around him. “Here we are then. London, the morning after you left.” It was late morning, with everyone bustling about trying to get to work or school or wherever their lives were leading them. Molly had just taken those crowds for granted before, but now she looked at those people, and she realized that none of them had ever stepped inside a blue box that was bigger on the inside, or had flirted with Shakespeare, or had walked on the moon. They blundered around the city, never realizing that there could be more to life than walking around in a mindless herd.

     She turned back to the Doctor. “Right, so I just want to clear up a few things at work and tell them I'll be gone for a while, then I'll stop by my place for the night and come back with you tomorrow morning.” A day in her old life might help clear her head.

     “How do you know how long a while'll be?” he questioned. “We could get stuck somewhere for months.”

     “It's a time machine,” she reminded him with a grin. “I'll just tell them I'm taking a week off. I can call them if I end up staying longer.” She fell silent after that. Who knew how long the Doctor would let her stay on board?

     With that, she started off down the familiar streets, turning back to wave at the Doctor. The blue box and its wild-haired owner were soon swallowed up in the crowd, and for a quick, terrifying moment, it was like he'd never been there at all.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Molly hurried into the hospital, pulling her white lab coat back over her clothes. When she checked in for work, she did a double take. The date on the check-in book was five days after the Judoon attack on the hospital. She checked it again, but the date remained the same. Five days. Five days, not one night. She’d been missing for five days.

     The worst part was that no one seemed to have noticed. The hospital staff had all had spotty attendance since the attack, and since her boss had died on the moon and had been replaced with a successor, her absence had gone pretty much unnoticed, as did her return. She was able to slip downstairs quietly to her work without a word from anyone. Before, she would have just accepted it and moved on, but now she wondered if her life here was really so meaningless that no one would notice if she left. Was she really so worthless to these people?

     She worked for a few hours, wallowing in silent doubt, when a familiar voice sounded behind her. “Ah, Molly, hi.”

     The pathologist whirled around, sending a few papers scattering with her arm. “Sherlock!” The tall detective was standing there, in the same long coat and ruffled hair as always, his flatmate beside him, whose name she’d quite forgotten. After those days on the TARDIS, it was a bit of a shock seeing him again. The thin frame and the cheekbones and his cold eyes still made Molly as flustered as ever, even after her time away. And of course the way he looked right through her hadn’t changed. It was like the last few days hadn’t happened, and she was as self-conscious and meek as she had ever been before the Doctor.

     Sherlock was flashing a tight smile, which meant he wanted something. Of course. As always, he was quick to get to the point. “We need the lab.”

     His flatmate gave him a short side glare. “Sherlock,” he hissed warningly, but of course the detective ignored him. He turned to Molly with a look of concern. “Are you alright? We haven’t heard from you in a bit, and you weren’t at the hospital when you told us you’d be.” She tensed at the implication, but he wasn’t accusing. He actually seemed worried.

     She ducked her head, trying to avoid Sherlock’s piercing glare. “I’m fine,” she mumbled. Now more than ever, after her exhausting days on the TARDIS, she didn’t have the will or the energy to argue with Sherlock. “Go ahead, the lab’s yours, I’ll just pop out for a bit.”

     Quick as she could, she scurried out of the room, eager to get away from the detective for a bit.

**SCENEBREAK**

     When she’d gone and grabbed herself a coffee and prepared herself a bit, she finally returned to the lab. She wanted to hesitate more, but she remembered the way she’d stood calmly in front of a Dalek, and told herself to stop being such a coward.

     As she walked closer, she could hear Sherlock’s cold, uncaring tone. “Oh, she doesn’t matter, she’s just a hostage. No lead there.” Molly hesitated a little at the words. She wondered how she could have ever thought Sherlock and the Doctor were similar. The Doctor would never, ever presume to think that someone didn’t matter.

     John’s disgusted reply came a few moments later. “For God’s sake, I wasn’t thinking about leads.”

     Molly decided to cut in now. She pushed through the doors. “Hello,” she greeted with as cheerful a smile she could manage. “Any luck?”

     As usual, Sherlock ignored her, and John just shrugged uncertainly. She looked between the two, growing flustered in the silence, and let out a little “Okay” before heading back towards one of the counters, leaning with her back against it, arms crossed self-consciously over her chest.

     Without warning, the doors to the morgue burst open, and a familiar man with wild hair and a long coat came hurrying in. “Molly, I was wrong, it was five day-“ He paused, taking in the scene before him, with Sherlock bent over the microscope, completely ignoring his entrance, John looking up in mild confusion, and Molly hanging around in the back.

     She fought the very unusual urge to roll her eyes. “I got that, thanks.”

     The Time Lord scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, giving her a sheepish look. “Well, to be fair, it’s better than a year.”

     Her brief annoyance faded in the face of relief. It had all been real. The crazy, amazing days on the TARDIS had all been real. The man in front of her proved it. There had been several times that day she’d been afraid she dreamed it all, but now she was certain it was real.

     She hurried to the Doctor’s side, turning to face Sherlock and his flatmate. “Doctor, this is Sherlock Holmes, and...” she trailed off as she realized she didn’t know his flatmate’s name.

     “John Watson,” the man supplied, looking only mildly resigned at the slip of memory.

     “John, Sherlock,” she addressed the flatmates, “this is the Doctor.”

     John raised an eyebrow. “Doctor who?” he asked curiously.

     The Time Lord shook his head. “Just the Doctor,” he corrected. He wasn’t wearing the usual goofy grin; instead, he was looking at both John and Sherlock, carefully evaluating. Sherlock looked like he wasn’t paying attention, but Molly saw his quick, calculating eyes taking darting glances at him. She felt a rush of horror as she realized he was doing his usual information scan, the kind that revealed all of a person's deepest secrets. What would he discover about the Doctor? What could he possibly think of the time traveling alien? What might he blurt out?

     The Doctor reached out to shake John’s hand, but Sherlock didn’t accept the offered hand when his turn came, instead focusing on his microscope. The Time Lord’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t seem fazed. “I just popped in to let Molly know that our ride might be a bit late.” She held back a chuckle at his explanation. _More like your ride was five days late._

     “Your ride?” John asked curiously.

     “Yeah, we’re going traveling a bit,” the Doctor lied. Well, not a total lie. “Part of a research… thing, you know.”

     John looked at him dubiously, but before he could say anything, Sherlock interrupted him. “Pass me my phone,” he ordered shortly.

     “Where is it?” John asked resignedly.

     “Jacket.” Molly looked around automatically for a coat hanging up, only to be struck dumb as she realized he was referring to the coat _that he was already wearing._ John’s eyes widened, but after a few moment’s annoyance, he simply rolled his eyes, strode over to the detective, and pulled the phone from his pocket obediently. The Doctor’s eyebrows had raised, and he was clearly holding back laughter. Molly just tried to control the burning red on her cheeks. If it was obvious how much she liked this arrogant man, what would the Doctor think of her judgment now?

     John looked at the phone. “Text from your brother,” he informed the detective.

     Sherlock didn’t even look up as he said, “Delete it.”

     “Delete it?” his flatmate repeated dubiously.

     “Plans are out of the country now, nothing we can do about it,” Sherlock explained dismissively.

     “Plans?” the Doctor asked curiously. Molly could see he was eagerly sniffing around for another adventure, another mystery to solve.

     John looked at the Time Lord with suspicion, but it was Sherlock who answered. “Blueprints for a construction site my brother left on a plane. I told him they’re halfway to China by now, but he never listens to me.” Molly doubted that was the truth, but the effortless way he explained it left it hard to doubt. The Doctor, however, watched him with thoughtful, narrowed eyes.

     Molly looked worriedly between the detective and the Time Lord, wondering what Sherlock might have already deduced about the Doctor. He seemed almost determined to ignore the Doctor, but John seemed curious. “What exactly are you a doctor of?” he asked lightly. He seemed suspicious; asking about the plans, whatever they were, had clearly captured John’s attention.

     The Doctor shrugged. “Oh, you know, a bit of everything.” John stared back doubtfully, but before he could question the man further, the doors opened once more, and Molly’s boyfriend stuck his head inside the door, looking surprised to see more than Molly inside. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t…”

     Molly stood quickly, forcing a smile for him. “Jim, hi. Come in, come in.” She hadn’t been dating Jim long, but he was really sweet, and he seemed to care far more than anyone else in her life did. He wasn’t Sherlock, but she was really starting to like him.

     He gave her a slight, worried look. “I was getting worried, I hadn’t heard from you.”

     “I’m sorry, I had a few things to take care of with family,” she lied. She didn’t have much family left alive, but the excuse would work for now.

     She waved the meek man over, turning back to the others for another introduction. “Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and the Doctor.” Jim spared a quick, surprised glance at the Doctor, probably taking in the eccentric clothing and the hair, but then turned back to Sherlock with a shy smile. “Hi. So, you’re Sherlock Holmes. Molly’s told me all about you. You on one of your cases?” He was looking over the detective’s shoulder at the microscope, leaning slightly towards him.

     “Jim works in IT, upstairs,” Molly explained. “That’s how we met, Office romance.” She didn’t know if she’d go as far as romance yet, but she wanted to convince herself she liked this man as much as Sherlock.

     Sherlock didn’t look up from his microscope as he muttered a quick, devastating word. “Gay.”

     Molly froze. “Sorry, what?” she asked meekly. He hadn’t deduced that about Jim. He couldn’t have. Jim was her _boyfriend,_ he couldn’t be gay.

     The detective looked up, surprised. “Nothing. Um, hey.”

     Jim continued smiling at him, only making Molly more uncomfortable. _He’s not,_ she told herself resolutely. _He’s not, he can’t be. He chose to date me, he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t mean it. Would he?_ She tried to crush the horrible, doubtful thoughts, but they continued on.

     After a bit of fumbling on his part, Jim gave Sherlock a final shy look. “Well, I’d better be off.” He turned back to Molly. “Dinner tonight? I’ll pick you up around five?”

     Molly forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

     He looked back at Sherlock with the shy, almost adoring look. “Bye. It was nice to meet you.” With that, he turned and headed out the doors, not even giving Molly a final look.

     The pathologist turned to Sherlock, trying to hide the fearful doubts pounding in her head. “What do you mean, gay?” she asked, trying to seem casual. “We’re together.”

     “And domestic bliss must suit you. Molly,” Sherlock remarked, oblivious. “You’ve put on three pounds since I last saw you.”

     The Doctor said in a low, warning tone, “Sherlock,” but the detective ignored him.

     “Two and a half,” Molly protested meekly.

     “No, three,” Sherlock corrected.

     Molly was getting worked up now. Doubt and fear of being rejected by the few people she’d come to trust was getting to her. “He’s not gay. Why do you have to spoil? He’s not.”

     Sherlock scoffed. “With that level of personal grooming?”

     John made an attempt to stick up for her. “Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair.”

     “You _wash_ your hair,” Sherlock corrected, “there’s a difference. No, no tinted eyelashes.. clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines. Those tired, clubber’s eyes. Then there’s his underwear.”

     “His underwear?”

     “Visible above the waistline. Very visible. Very particular brand. Plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish. I’d say you’d better break if off now and save yourself the pain. And then there’s your friend the Doctor.”

     John’s voice was sharp as he warned, “ _Sherlock!_ ” but as usual the detective plowed on.

     “Calls himself a doctor, but those aren’t a doctor’s hands. He’s a soldier, a man used to danger, a man seeking danger. The minute he walked in the room he was evaluating the layout and searching for exits, but it’s not fear, it’s anticipation. A man who’s used to danger then, a man who’s killed. Worn converse suggest a lot of running and danger, suit is high-quality but well worn, suggesting fall to low income, I’d even go as far to say it’s all he ever wears. There’s no way he’d be able to afford traveling, so I’d say he’s probably after your money. You really must choose your friends better, Molly.”

     Molly stared at the detective in horror, embarrassment and doubt washing over her. He was wrong about the Doctor, maybe, but what about Jim? What if he had just gone out with her because she was easy to lie to, because she was undesirable? If only someone not interested in women could ever want her, what chance did she ever have? And what would the Doctor think now that she’d seen her life? Would he want her back on the TARDIS now? How could he?

     Overwhelmed, she turned and pushed past the doors the morgue, trying to hold back the tears. Sherlock Holmes just had to ruin everything. The first time she’d really felt good about herself, and now she had nothing.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The Doctor watched Molly leave with a rush of sympathy. He’d guessed that Jim might be gay when he’d walked in, it was a bit obvious really, but he never would have told her that. He felt a rush of protectiveness for his companion. She hadn’t deserved any of that.

     He whirled around to glare at Sherlock, who was watching Molly leave with a baffled expression. John, too, was glaring at him. “Charming, well done,” he said sarcastically.

     Sherlock looked honestly confused by the pathologist’s reaction. “Just saving her time,” he defended himself. “Isn’t that kinder?”

     John’s eyebrows raised at that. “Kinder? No, no, Sherlock, that _wasn’t_ kind.”

     “That wasn't necessary,” the Doctor said sharply. There were two things in the universe hat were guaranteed to get him angry – threatening innocents, and hurting his companions. The fact that it had been a verbal attack rather than a physical one made no difference. Molly had some serious self-esteem issues, and this Sherlock had torn her down without so much as a second thought. That would not be tolerated.

     The detective looked up at him with a sharp, penetrating glance. His bright eyes were sharp with an intelligence and a coldness that would better fit a Time Lord than a human. His lips quirked into a little mocking smirk. “What, warning her about you?”

     The Doctor stayed leaning back against the counter, arms crossed across his chest. His expression was quite blank, far too carefully neutral. Monsters far more dangerous than Sherlock Holmes had fled in terror from such a look. The detective's calculating glance flitted quickly over the Time Lord's face. His eyebrows raised slightly at what he found, but he said nothing.

     The Doctor had seen him evaluate people with a glance's work, shooting off facts to look impressive and prove himself clever. Well, time to turn the trick on its master. “You act like you don't care. You're the clever one, aren't you? The genius who has to stand out, to prove how clever he is, over and over, just to feel your own worth.”

     “Hey, there's no call-” John tried to cut him off, but the Doctor plowed on. “You think just because you're brilliant that you're better than everyone else. But you're not. Genius doesn't give you the right to walk over everyone else, the way you do with Molly. You manipulate her when you need her, but when you don't you tear her down. And you say you're helping her?” His tone had sharpened towards the end, disgust evident in every word.

     Sherlock looked properly surprised at having been read so well, something the Doctor guessed didn't happen often. There was maybe a flicker of guilt in his expression, but he covered it up quickly. He leaned back in his chair, looking at the Doctor thoughtfully. “You're not preying on Molly, you actually care about her,” he mused. “But you're clever, properly brilliant. It's not a romantic attachment on your part or hers, that much is obvious, and you're not related. So what do you care?”

     He seemed genuinely interested, not trying to insult, but the words had done their work. John sucked in a sharp breath, gaze flicking between his flatmate and the Time Lord, and the Doctor's expression grew dangerously still. In a low, deliberate voice, he told the detective, “If you think an ordinary human, not a genius like you, isn't the most important thing in the universe, you've got a sad view of what matters.” With that, he turned and pushed past the morgue doors, trying to push down his anger. Molly probably wouldn't thank him for interfering, he realized now, and normally he let companions defend themselves. But Molly clearly didn't have the confidence too, and he wasn't going to leave her defenseless while the man she clearly adored tore her self-esteem to shreds.

     He resolved to seek out Molly later, to try and repair the damage of Sherlock's revelations. But not now. He'd give her time to cool off first.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Molly had held off from texting or calling Jim about what Sherlock had said. She didn't cry in the hours after that, instead becoming even more withdrawn as she finished her work and headed home.

     The pathologist's doubts only grew worse as she prepared for her date with Jim. Sherlock was right, he'd always been right. She must have looked like such an idiot to Jim, and to the Doctor too. What chance did she have of returning to the TARDIS now?

     Finally, she was ready in a fancy blue top and dark pants, with a necklace to match. She didn't know how this date was going to go, and the anxiety was starting to get unbearable. What would Jim say when she confronted him?

     Minutes later, the cab he'd promised pulled up in front of her apartment building. She approached the door, expecting to see Jim waiting inside, but instead a thickset man in a heavy coat exited.

     Molly backed away from the door, embarrassed. “Er, sorry, wrong cab.” As if she couldn't screw up more that day.

     That's when she heard the cock of a gun.

     She froze in horror. The thick-set man was pointing a gun at her from within his heavy coat. In a deep, thickly accented voice, he ordered, “Get in the cab.”

     She tried to push down her fear and think logically, a skill she'd gotten particularly good at in the last few days of travel. Jim would be coming soon, but he wouldn't be able to do anything to help, he'd just be in danger. No one but the Doctor would realize she was missing, and that wouldn't be until the morning at least. There was no choice but to obey.

     She quietly slipped into the cab, waiting for the driver to drive off. Instead, the thickset man lunged at her, wrapping a wide, strong arm around her throat.

     Molly tried to scream, but the man stuff some sort of cloth in her face and nose, and the sound was muffled. The pathologist found herself quickly growing weaker. She thought she caught a glimpse of the Doctor watching in horror from the cab window, but before she could be sure, a dark spots blotted out her vision, and she succumbed to unconciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you might have guessed, I have decided to replace the Lazarus Experiment with The Great Game - but with a twist, of course.
> 
> For the Sherlock fans out there who might think the Doctor's being too hard on him - there are several points in the series where people are rude to Sherlock or go too far, but this time he's the one who went too far, and the Doctor's justified in defending her.


	18. The Great Game: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly wakes up by the pool wearing a bomb.

     The Doctor eventually found Molly's appartment building. It was a few hours after the scene in the lab, and he hoped she'd gotten over enough of her embarrassment that his appearance wouldn't just fluster her further.

     As he walked down the street towards the building, he noticed a familiar form standing outside, seemingly waiting for something. _Molly._ Right, her boyfriend had said something about picking her up around five.

     Warning bells went off in his head when a cab pulled out in front of her and an unfamiliar form emerged and talked to her. Molly froze, and after a few moments, she followed the man into the cab. The Doctor had already quickened his pace, suspicions aroused, but he didn't break into a run until he saw the figures struggling inside the cab. “Molly!”

     He got close enough to see Molly's terrified face from within the car, then the cab took off, picking up speed faster than the Doctor could hope to. “No!” He raced after the cab as fast as he could, but he couldn't hope to out race a car, even in London traffic. It drove off out of sight, and he was left panting, trying to gather his thoughts.

     He wasn't sure why Molly had been taken, but he could take a guess at who the real target might be. It was either himself, as per usual, or the mysterious Sherlock Holmes. He was brilliant, so he was bound to have made some enemies, and he seemed to be tangled in some governmental affairs judging by the text from his brother.

     The Doctor ran up to a young man on the street listening to music on his smart phone. “Excuse me, can I borrow that for a moment?” After shooting him a suspicious look, the man oblidged, hovering nearby to make sure he didn't run off with his phone.

     He had no time for subtlety, so he simply pulled out his sonic screwdriver and gave the phone a bit of a zap. He scrolled at super-speed through the results for Sherlock Holmes, quickly discovering his website, “The Science of Deduction.” _The skill he uses is induction, not deduction,_ he thought irritably for a moment, but that thought was chased from his head when he saw Sherlock's latest post. “ _Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect. The Pool. Midnight._ ”

     After a bit of quick research, he was able to figure out that the pool referred to was the pool where Carl Powers had died. He found the address, passed the bewildered teenager back his now-enhanced phone, and took off to hail a cab.

     The Oncoming Storm was beginning to brew under the surface. Far too many people were going after his companion, and they needed to learn that his companions were _off-limits._

**SCENEBREAK**

     Molly groaned slightly as she came back to consciousness. She still felt a little light-headed and dizzy, but the feeling started to pass the longer she was awake.

     She opened her eyes to see that she was in some sort of changing stall. The air had the strange humidness that was unique to pools, which would fit with the damp floor of the stall she was in.

     There was some sort of device in her ear. She went to remove it, but her groan must have been heard, because a familiar voice sounded in her ear. “ _Ah, look who finally woke up._ ”

     She froze. “J... Jim?” Her still disoriented mind didn't understand. Why had she been kidnapped, and why was her boyfriend speaking to her through an earpiece? She shook her head, trying to clear it.

     “ _Hello dear,_ ” he said in a too-smooth purr, “ _Did you enjoy that little show in the lab? You played your part quite well. Not that you knew what you were doing, of course. How could you? Bumbling, clueless Molly Hooper._ ” The words were harsh, cutting into Molly's mind, right into her greatest fears. “ _The girl with the crush on the great detective._ ” He chuckled cruely. “ _Well, you've set your sights rather high, haven't you? Why would Sherlock Holmes ever look at_ you? _What do you think he could possibly see? What could anyone?_ ”

     Molly drew in a sharp breath, trying to hold back the tears as her boyfriend threw all of her darkest fears in her face. “Stop it,” she whispered.

     “ _Did you really think he'd ever look twice at you? You? Seriously? You were there to be used._ ”

     “Stop it, I said stop it!” she cried out desperately.

     A high-pitched laugh sounded sharply in her ear. " _Sorry there girly, but I'm the one giving the orders. Or haven't you noticed what you're wearing?_ "

     The pathologist froze in horror. She had been too disoriented earlier to realize that she was wearing a large jacket that wasn't hers. Hands trembling, she drew back the flaps of the jacket, revealing a bomb best. She let out a choked cry at the sight, but she didn't scream or cry. Neither would do her any good. Her head was beginning to clear, and she knew that she would have to stay calm and logical if she was going to get out of this alive. In a low, even tone, she asked, "What do you want?"

     " _Ah, now you get the picture._ ” His voice became dangerously low as he told her, " _You're going to do everything I say. Got it?_ "

     Gritting her teeth, she gave a short, "Yes."

     " _Good girl. Now do shut up. I don't need you getting all snively. Let's save that for our special guest, shall we?_ "

     Molly shut her mouth obediently, mind racing. Clearly, this was a trap of some sort, and she was the bait. But who would come for her?

     She could only wait in silence.

**SCENEBREAK**

     She didn't have to wait long. Only a few minutes had passed when she heard nearby doors being opened. The normally quiet footsteps echoed loudly in the empty building. "Brought you a little getting-to-know you present." Molly started at the familiar voice. _Sherlock!_

     The detective continued calling out to the person he seemed sure was there. "That's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance, all to distract me from this."

     Molly wondered briefly if she was supposed to respond. She was saved from having to decide by the sound of another door opening - it sounded like it was from a stall near the one she was in. A familiar, deliberately level tone greeted Sherlock with a short, "Evening."

     Her eyes widened. _John._ Sherlock repeated her thought in a low, horrified tone. "John. what the hell?" Molly was truly confused now. Was John working with Jim?

     "This is turn-up, isn't it Sherlock? Bet you never saw this coming," John taunted dully. Molly listened more carefully to his tone and realized he was parroting someone's words. He must have one of those earpieces in, and Jim was feeding him his lines. The question was, why? What was it all for?

     John's next words confirmed her theory. "What would you like me to have him say next?" After a few moments, he began parroting dully, "Gottle o' gear, gottle o' gear, gottle o' gear."

     "Stop it," Sherlock ordered in a low whisper.

     "No?" John questioned. "Then maybe you'll like it better from a prettier mouth than mine?"

     Jim's voice sounded in her ear. " _Go outside the door and stand next to John, then repeat what I tell you._ "

     Trying to ignore the way her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest, she got to her feet and pushed past the door. John and Sherlock were standing out beside the pool; Molly did as Jim had said and came to stand beside John. He too was wearing a bomb vest, and little red laser dots danced across them, speaking of a gunmen off in the shadows aiming at him. Sherlock looked at her in surprise and worry for a moment, but quickly returned his horrified gaze to John.

     Listening to Jim's words, she repeated as calmly as she could manage, "This one's a pretty catch, isn't she Sherlock? But far too easy to fool." She closed her eyes as he forced her to repeat his vile words. "Not worth much to you, I'm told. But she makes for pretty bait all the same. Stupid little Molly Hooper, desperate enough to grab onto the first man who came her way."

     "Nice touch this," John took over. "The pool, where little Carl died. I stopped him..." the former soldier trailed off, taking a moment to collect himself before continuing, "I can stop John Watson too, stop his heart. I'd let Molly live for you to kick around some more... but where would the fun be in that?"

     Sherlock was looking more worked up than she'd ever seen him before. Staring wildly around the shadows of the pool, he called out angrily, "Who are you?"

     Somewhere off in the shadows, another door opened, swinging closed with a slow, eerie screech. "I gave you my number," Jim's voice called out mockingly, every syllable twisted and exaggerated. "I thought you might call."

     Her boyfriend stepped out of the shadows, but it wasn't the Jim she'd known. Instead of the t-shirt and sweats he normally had on, he was wearing a suit and tie, with his normally docile face whirled into a cruel smirk. Everything about him was different, every line seemed sharper. But his eyes were the worst. His warm brown eyes now seemed almost black, and they were completely cold and empty. She'd never seen eyes so cruel before.

     The strange man began advancing towards them, hands in his pockets, smirk focused on Sherlock. "Is that an Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket," he quipped, "Or are you just pleased to see me?"

     Gaze focused intensely on Jim, Sherlock slowly pulled a gun out of his pocket, pointing it at him. "Both."

     Jim halted, bouncing ever so slightly on the balls of his feet. "Jim Moriarty," he introduced himself. "Hi-i!" Even his voice was wildly different. Instead of the meek, soft accent from before, his accent oscillated wildly, occasionally slipping into an eerie sing-song. Everything about it just sounded wrong.

     When Sherlock didn't respond, his tone grew mocking. "'Jim? Jim from the hospital?'" Still nothing. "Huh. Did I really make so fleeting an impression? Although I suppose, that _was_ rather the point."

     When Sherlock continued to point the gun at him, Jim - no, Moriarty - just scoffed. "Don't be silly, someone else is holding the riffle. I don't like getting my hands dirty.” He grinned cruelly. “I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teeny glimpse, of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see. Like you.”

     Sherlock didn't move an inch, but his expression shifted slightly into one of understanding. “'Dear Jim,'” he breathed, gaze fixed on Moriarty, “'Please will you fix it for me, to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?' 'Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me, to disappear to South America?'”

     Moriarty chuckled, looking impressed with Sherlock's shrewdness. “Just so.”

     “Consulting criminal,” the consulting detective mused, looking almost impressed with the monster in front of him. “Brilliant.”

     “Isn't it?” Moriarty gushed. “No one ever gets to me.” His voice grew dangerously still as he added, “And no one ever will.” His gaze slid past Sherlock, staring into the shadows by the door. “So if you're trying to be sneaky, Doctor, you can just give it up now. Come out and play with the big boys.”

     Molly tensed in surprise as the Doctor stepped out into the light. She took an involuntary step towards him, starting to call out to him, but the feeling of the semtext vest against her chest silenced her again. The Doctor's gaze flicked quickly to her, eyes widening in horror when he saw the bomb strapped to her. Then his expression grew curiously blank – dangerously blank. She had learned well that the Doctor was at his most dangerous and angry when he seemed totally emotionless.

     “Thought it was worth a shot,” he explained lightly.

     Moriarty's smirk grew even wider. “The great Doctor himself. Well well, this is an honor, isn't it?” Amused sarcasm radiated from his tone. “The last living Time Lord.”

     The Doctor's gaze narrowed, but other than that he didn't react. “On my better days. That's not exactly common knowledge, though.”

     The consulting criminal just chuckled. “UNIT has some pretty extensive files on you, Doctor. It's child's play hacking in. I mean really, one password for everything? It's like they're not even trying.” His evaluating gaze slid over the Doctor, looking him up and down. “Well, I have to say, when I met an alien from outer space, I expected him to look a bit more... impressive.”

     The Doctor just stared quietly back at him, but Sherlock's brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “And here I was thinking you were perfectly sane,” he commented lightly.

     Moriarty's sharp gaze flicked between the Doctor and Sherlock. “Oh, don't tell me you don't know.” When Sherlock continued to look surprised, he laughed delightedly. “Really? Brother dearest didn't see fit to tell you? Aliens are real, Sherly old boy, and this one here's the biggest and baddest of them all. The last living Time Lord, because he killed all the others. Destroyed his entire species.” His tone had turned sharp, his words cutting. “Now he bangs around in his little spaceship, traveling through time and space, trying to save the world while the people around him get killed.”

     Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Time travel is impossible,” he informed Moriarty. “The paradoxes and minor changes would ripple into too many effects.”

     Moriarty smirked mockingly. “Oh come on, Sherlock. Being a genius doesn't mean you can't keep an open mind.”

     Molly had tuned out of their conversation a while ago. Moriarty's words had stunned her into shocked silence. _The last living Time Lord, because he killed all the others._ Was it true? Could it possibly be true? Had the Doctor really destroyed an entire species – his own? She remembered his earlier reaction to genocide, how horrified, how familiar he had seemed with it.

     The Doctor's voice broke her out of her thoughts. “If you've read so much about me, then you know what happens to people who hurt my companions.” His calm tone barely covered the rage underneath. He was really, truly angry, Molly realized. Because of her.

     Moriarty didn't seem bothered by his tone. Instead, his cruel smirk turned into one of amusement as he turned to look at Molly. “Yes, Molly Hooper, companion of the Doctor. I wasn't going to come after you, Doctor, really I wasn't. You're not any fun after all. You've got rules, morals, restraint, all so very dull. But when you practically pushed your companion into my lap, how was I supposed to resist?” He gave a malicious grin, sending shivers down Molly's spine. “I really don't see the thinking here, Doc. You could have any number of geniuses as your companion, and you chose little Molly Hooper.”

     The Time Lord gave a little shrug. “Genius can be overrated,” was all he said. His eyes narrowed as he asked, “What's the point of all this, then? Dragging us out here, two geniuses. Are you just here to show off?”

     Before Moriarty could respond, Sherlock provided an answer. “It's a distraction. The whole elaborate dance, all the games, all just a distraction, to keep me from finding this.”

     Slowly, he held out a flash drive, offering it to Moriarty, who took it with interest. "Ooo, the missile plans." He looked down at the little flash drive for a moment, then looked up with a grin that clearly said _suckers!_ "Bo-ring! I could've gotten them anywhere!"

     He went to toss the flashdrive into the pool, and for that crucial moment, his attention was elsewhere. Molly had barely processed this when John utilized it, grabbing Moriarty from behind and using his as a human shield against the laser dots. "Run!" he gasped out, but no one moved. Molly still had a bomb strapped to her, and she wasn't leaving anyone behind, even if she didn't know John very well. Not after Frank.

     Moriarty let out something of a strangled cry as John wrapped his arms around his throat and chest, but he didn't seem angered by the turn of events. Instead, he seemed almost delighted. " _Good! Ve_ -ry good!"

     John struggled to keep a firm hold on the taller Moriarty, though the man wasn't actively trying to get free. "Your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, and we both go up."

     Moriarty looked back at John appraisingly, acting remarkably calm for someone being used as a human shield. "I can see why you like having him around. But then, people always do get so sentimental about their pets, am I right Doctor? So touchingly loyal. But _whoops!_ "

     Slowly, the dreaded red dots made their way to Sherlock, dancing tauntingly across his forehead. "I think you've rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson." John released Moriarty immediately, backing up so he was out of range. The small hope that Molly'd felt faded. There'd be no tricky escapes; they'd have to play this game through to the end.

     Moriarty straightened his slightly ruffled coat, dusting it off over-dramatically. "Westwood." He looked up at Molly with a knowing smirk. "Oh, and Molly dear, in case Johnny boy gave you any clever ideas..."

     Red dots appeared on the Doctor's forehead, and on both sides of his chest, over both hearts. Molly's breath caught at the sight, but the Doctor just scoffed. "You really think a gun can kill a Time Lord? You should have done your homework better."

     Moriarty shrugged unconcernedly. "I'm told it hurts like hell, though. And let's remember, sweet little Molly's not so invincible, so no tricks now alien boy."

     The Doctor's expression darkened at the threat. "Why are you doing this?" he bit out through gritted teeth. "What's the _point?_ "

     Moriarty gazed back calmly, growing dangerously calm. "A warning," he replied simply. "Sherlock's been sticking his nose in where it really doesn't belong, and you have a bit of a track record for interfering. A consulting criminal with a extensive network has to watch his back. I've brought you here to make a point. I've shown you what I can do, I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play, so take this as a friendly warning, my dear. _Back off._ "

     "Not likely," the Doctor told him in a low voice. He took a few slow steps toward Moriarty, dangerously still. "You still haven't done the research, have you? Because there's a name for me out there. The deadliest race in the universe gave it to me, and the last time they tried to use my companion as a bargaining chip, _I turned them into dust._ So _never_ think that you can hurt the people I care about and get away with it, because greater people than you have tried and failed!" His voice had gained volume by the end, heavy with rage.

     Moriarty seemed completely unruffled by the Doctor's tone. "You seem to be under the impression I'm only threatening Miss Hooper." The color drained from the Doctor's face as he took in his full meaning, and the monster's smirk widened. "You think I didn't walk into this meeting without reading through your files? Companion after companion after companion, you busy boy, and most of them conveniently enough living on Earth, completely oblivious about little old me. Jo and her darling husband, the Brigidair, dear Sarah Jane... shall I go on? No?"

     The Doctor's expression was darker than she'd ever seen it, but he said nothing. He just glared in silence. Moriarty grinned in triumph. "That's what I thought. If you try poking around in my operations, your companions will pay the price, same thing if you tell them about me, you know the drill. Ooo, I might even kill a companion before they meet you! The possibilities of time travel!"

     Satisfied that the Doctor was thoroughly warned, he turned back to Sherlock. Molly got the feeling he'd only wanted the Doctor out of the way because of the threat he posed. It was Sherlock he was really interested in, Sherlock he saw as his equal. "Do you know what happens, Sherlock, if you don't leave me alone? To you?"

     The detective looked almost bored with the cliche. "Oh, let me guess, I get killed."

     Moriarty's eyes widened. "Kill you?" he repeated with distaste. "Well, well no, don't be _obvious._ I mean, I'm gonna kill you anyway, someday. I don't wanna rush it though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no, no. If you do not stop prying... I will _burn_ you.” His voice had gone eerily serious, his gaze intense as he watched Sherlock. “I will burn the _heart_ out of you.”

     “I have been reliably informed that I don't have one.” Molly saw a slight hint of guilt flash on the Doctor's face, which confused her. What had he said to Sherlock after she'd left? John was looking more guilty, sending an apologetic look to Sherlock from where he stood.

     Moriarty just smirked. “But we both know that's not _quite_ true, is it?” He looked pointedly at John; Sherlock followed his gaze with fear evident in his eyes. It shouldn't have hurt. It really shouldn't have hurt that much, seeing that Sherlock cared more about John than her. She'd known and accepted it. But it still hurt to see the fear when John was threatened, and the way he completely ignored her, though she was in the same danger.

     The monster's gaze slid lazily between the three of them, seeming in no hurry to say anything more of import. Then he shifted, straightening slightly. “Well, I better be off. It was so nice to have had this little chat.” He turned to leave, strolling off with a completely casual air.

     “Wait.” Moriarty paused, turning slightly to look back. It was Molly who had spoken; there was something that had been nagging her from the beginning, something that didn't add up. She fought to keep her voice level as she asked, “Why are you doing this? What are you after? Money, power, what? What are your operations for in the first place?”

     Moriarty turned fully to face her. She had faced metal Daleks, cruel-faced carionites, vicious pigmen, and they had all been dangerous and frightening in their ways. But the grin on his face was somehow a whole different type of horrible. His eyes were completely cold and empty, and his grin seemed to only make every line on his face sharper. He waited a few moments, then spoke one word that sent shivers down Molly's spine. “Fun.”

     He turned back to the two non-hostages. “Ciao, Sherlock Holmes, Doctor.” With that, he began sauntering off again.

     Sherlock followed him for a few steps, gun still pointed level at Moriarty's retreating figure. “Catch... you... later.”

     Moriarty disappeared behind the doors of the pool, but not without giving a last parting, sing-song shot. “No you won't!”

     Molly let out the breath she'd been holding, feeling almost light-headed with relief. It was over. It was really, truly over. For now, at least, they were safe from the maniac who'd lied to her.

     Sherlock bolted straight for John, but Molly found herself running right for the Doctor. She went in for a hug, but he focused on her bomb vest first. They worked to rip it off together, then he quickly rendered it harmless with his sonic screwdriver.

     Letting out a relieved laugh, the Doctor pulled her into a tight, crushing hug. She hadn't realized she was trembling until she felt the Doctor's arms try to steady her. “You alright?” he asked a little breathlessly.

     Molly gave a little, relieved giggle. “I'm fine.” The tears she'd held back all day were in free-fall now. She fought to choke back a sob, pulling tighter into the hug. “Thanks for coming for me,” she mumbled into his coat.

     “Always,” the Doctor promised firmly, grip on her tightening. There was something off about his tone.

     The pathologist pulled back, studying the Time Lord's face. Of course. Moriarty's threat to his past companions. “I'm sorry for getting you into this, and for what Ji- Moriarty said.”

     The Doctor's expression hardened slightly. “That wasn't your fault,” he told her firmly.

     Molly smiled sadly at him, tears blurring her vision a bit. “You heard him,” she said dully. “If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't have come after you and your companions in the first place.” Now that the relief was fading a little, the horror was setting in. Jim, sweet Jim, had used her as bait for her only real friend. He'd used her, lied to her, forced her to say hateful words about herself. She dipped her head, trying to hide the torrent of emotions.

     She wasn't fast enough for the Doctor, who saw her expression and pulled her into another tight hug. “You _are_ my companion, Molly Hooper. Got it?”

     She didn't answer; she couldn't. All she could do was cling to her best friend and try to get her mind through what had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the end of the Great Game. It's kinda long, and I didn't include the bit about him coming back since it didn't happen this time. There will be another interlude, then moving on to 42.
> 
> As for his past companions - yes, Moriarty went there. And yes he also decided to be as much of an asshole as he could to Molly. I will be dealing with the past companions as little as humanly possible, since I've never seen Classic Who and don't know anything about them. The little I've included here comes from what I read off the TARDIS wiki.
> 
> I hope I got the dialogue and feel of this scene right. This is a seriously intense, difficult scene, and adding in two extra characters has the potential to really ruin it. I hope I didn't.


	19. Interlude Three: Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and the Doctor talk after the events at the pool.

     After it was all over, the Doctor was quick to get them both back to the TARDIS. It didn't particularly surprise him when Sherlock followed them – he deliberately left the door opened a crack so the detective could sneak in after them.

     Molly was off in the library when the Doctor returned to the console room. Sherlock was there, gazing around, trying his hardest not to look surprised and impressed. He looked at the Doctor when he entered, looking completely unashamed of having snuck in. “You're an alien.” It wasn't a question, yet a thousand more questions bubbled underneath.

     The Doctor rested lightly against the arc of the door, arms crossed over his chest. "Yeah," he answered shortly.

     Sherlock's gaze wandered around the console room. "This is a time machine. A box that's bigger on the inside, probably due to it being dimensionally transcendent, that can travel through time and space.

     The Doctor nodded, not smiling. "It's called the TARDIS. That's Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. And it's mine."

     The detective's sharp gaze snapped back to the Doctor. "And Molly travels with you."

     He nodded again, the earlier protective instincts from before rising up. The kidnapping and bomb from tonight had left him particularly edgy. If Sherlock was here to insult Molly, he'd find himself stranded on some far-off moon faster than the Doctor could stop himself.

     Something like concern lit up in Sherlock's eyes. "How is she?"

     The Doctor glanced back down the hallway he'd just left. "I'm not sure. Your deductions from earlier hurt, and now, with Jim being Moriarty..." He turned back to Sherlock. "Her self-esteem is low enough as it is. She doesn't see how brilliant she is. She didn't need this."

     Sherlock shook his head. "No, she needs you." The Time Lord blinked in surprise, but let him continue. "I've known Molly a few years now, and I can tell that she trusts you. You're good for her, Doctor."

     The Time Lord was surprised at the detective's concern. Earlier, he'd gotten the impression Sherlock didn't care about Molly at all, but apparently he had been wrong.

     Sherlock started for the door, but turned to look back over his shoulder quick. "Talk to her. That seems to help people, talking about things." With that, he was gone.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Molly was curled up on the couch in the library when the Doctor found her. The fireplace was roaring a few feet away, and the ceiling looked like a continually changing night sky, swathed with the colors of far-off galaxies and planets. In her opinion, it was truly the most beautiful room in the TARDIS.

     Molly looked up when the Doctor entered, the blanket she'd wrapped around herself shifting slightly as she moved. She sat up, smooching over so there was room for the Doctor to sit. He sank down onto the couch beside her, watching her face with concern. "Are you alright?"

     She nodded tiredly. "I'm fine, Doctor. You don't need to worry about me."

     "Why? Because you think you're not important?" Molly turned away, embarrassed, but the Doctor continued, "Don't let what Moriarty and Sherlock said get to you, alright? They're wrong. You are important. You saved everyone at that hospital, you stopped carrionites with Shakespeare, you saved everyone in Hooverville."

     "But I got Frank killed," she murmured, remembering the teenager whose death she'd caused.

     He stiffened. "That wasn't your fault." They sat in silence for a few moments. "You know, I wasn't going to travel with anyone again after Rose. You changed my mind."

     Molly blinked in surprise. "Really?"

     The Time Lord nodded. "I choose my companions carefully, Molly. And you could be a match for any of them."

     Molly looked down at her hands, not sure what to say. She'd been so scared of what the Doctor would think of her after all that, but he was still her friend. She didn't know how to respond.

     Then he started speaking again. But it was different from before. Before he was comforting her, soothing her that her secrets didn't faze him. This was him sharing his secrets, showing he trusted and valued her enough to share his own pain.

     He told her about the Time War.

     The Doctor told her everything - what Gallifrey was like before, the war, destroying Gallifrey and the Time Lords to save the universe. He even told her about Canary Wharf and losing Rose, though he didn't admit his true feelings for her. He had never been so open with her before, and as he spoke, she could see the full extent of the pain he kept hidden. In an odd way, it made her feel better, knowing the Doctor had trusted her enough to tell her this, and that he, too, had doubts and pain to sort through.

     After he was done and she had expressed her sympathies, the two sat in silence for a bit, both thinking about what had been said. Finally, Molly asked quietly, “How long am I allowed to stay with you?”

     The Time Lord smiled back at her. “As long as you want,” he promised.

     For the first time since leaving the lab, Molly smiled. That was all the answer she needed.

**SCENEBREAK**

     After the Doctor left, Molly hung around in the library a bit longer before deciding to head off to bed. She felt better now after talking with the Doctor, and though it would take a while, she was going to try to see herself in a better light. If the Doctor thought she was a worthy companion, she'd try to see herself that way.

     It seemed, however, the day had one more surprise in store for her. She froze when she opened the door to her bedroom on the TARDIS. It had been completely bare before, with wooden floorboards and a clean white wall. But not anymore.

     The room now had a creamy wallpaper with slight patterning and soft peach carpet underfoot, with matching bedsheets and furniture. It seemed a little bigger too, and there were two large bookshelves inside, stocked with some of her favorites from the TARDIS library. Molly blinked a few times, wondering if she was imagining the sight in front of her, but it remained the same.

     It wasn't the Doctor's work; he'd been out of the TARDIS all day like her. That just left the TARDIS herself. She'd already seen that the ship liked to change around her rooms, so it shouldn't have surprised her that she could change a room's interior based on the inhabitant's personality. But it was still a shock, and a heartwarming one at that. The TARDIS had given her a room to live in – a sign of her approval. She wanted her on board, it seemed, as much as the Doctor.

     The pathologist patted the doorframe with a smile. “Thanks,” she whispered to the ship. She could swear she heard a pleased _hum_ echo through the ship.

     Finally, she was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's that interlude I promised, with some fluff to compensate for the heavy emotionalness of the last episode. (emotionalness, is that a word?) So the Doctor has finally told Molly about the Time War, and the Daleks, and Rose - and though he hasn't said he loved Rose, Molly knows it.
> 
> On to 42, admittedly not my favorite episode (not that there's anything wrong with it, it's just not the most exciting one of the season.) I'm afraid I'm pretty much going to stick to the canon on this one, but after this episode canon is pretty much taking a long vacation. :P


	20. 42: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Molly follow a distress signal and find themselves on a spaceship in terrible danger.

     “Right, there we go.” The Doctor finished sonic-ing Molly's mobile phone and tossed it back to her. “Universal roaming. Never have to worry about a signal again.”

     The pathologist turned the phone over in her hand, disbelief mixed with wonder. “No way. You're saying this can call anywhere in time and space? How does it work? Do I have to specify a time or something?”

     “Nah, it's pretty good at figuring that out for you,” he explained cheerfully. “Just as long as you know the area code, you're good.” He gave her a quick, friendly grin. “Frequent flier's privilege. Go on, try it.”

     Molly toyed with the phone in her hand, thinking. Who would she really want to call? She certainly wasn't ready to talk to Sherlock again after what happened, and Jim really wasn't an option anymore. Maybe someone from work who'd been transported to the moon? But deep down she knew there was no one back home who would understand what she'd gone through, the life she was living now. There was no one worth calling, and no life to go back to. She'd made her choice.

     As she tried to make her decision, the TARDIS suddenly gave a sharp jerk. Molly grabbed automatically onto console, skillfully saving herself from a bad fall – she was getting far too used to turbulence from the ship. An alarm began blaring through the ship. The Doctor checked the monitor, hands busy with switches and dials. “Distress signal, locking on.” Looking slightly manic, he swung his leg up, using his foot to throw a lever. “Might be a bit of - ”

     He was cut off as the TARDIS gave an even more violent shudder. Molly wasn't quick enough this time, and soon found herself thrown to the ground. “ - turbulence.” the Doctor finished ruefully. He too had been thrown-off balance. His spiky hair was even more ruffled now, and he had a slightly wild look of anticipation as he bounced back to his feet. “Come on Molly, let's take a look!” He headed to the door, leaving Molly to clamber back to her feet.

     Shaking her head and laughing at the Doctor's excitement, she followed him out through the doors of the TARDIS. They had landed in what looked like some sort of engine room. From the start, Molly could tell something was wrong. Thick smoke filled the room, a strange yellow light cast everything in a sickly glow, and it felt like walking into the inside of an oven. An automated voice sounded from a nearby speaker. “ _Distress signal transmitted._ ”

     “Whoa, now that is hot,” the Doctor remarked as he started looking around. Molly bet he was glad he hadn't worn his long coat that day – he only had on the blue suit he normally wore underneath the coat. She herself was wearing a jean jacket with a pale green v-neck long-sleeve shirt underneath and a white tank top under that. Moments after stepping outside she was dying to shed a layer, but jean jackets didn't exactly lend themselves to the tie-around-the-waist trick. Instead, she settled for sweeping her hair back off her shoulders, eyes narrowed as she tried to peer through the smoke. “Feels like an oven in here,” she commented lightly.

     The Doctor wandered a few paces, gaze flitting around the room. “Venting systems,” he explained to her distractedly. “Working at full pelt, trying to cool down wherever it is we are.” He paused as he noticed a door on the nearby wall. “Well, if you can't stand the heat.”

     He and Molly headed over. It took a bit of work to get the door open, but they finally managed it, pushing past into a hallway. It looked like part of some kind of ship, with a narrow metal hallway. She wasn’t sure what time period they were in – it could’ve been a regular ship or a futuristic spaceship. There wasn’t enough to go on yet.

     “Oi, you two!”

     “Get out of there!”

     They turned to see three people sprinting towards them – or rather, towards the room they’d just come out of. The two men hurried to shut and bolt the door, while the woman confronted the Doctor and his companion. “Who are you? What are you doing on my ship?”

     The younger of the two men asked in a less hostile tone, “Are you the police?”

     “Why would we be the police?” the Doctor asked in confusion.

     “We picked up your distress call,” Molly explained. “Is there a problem with the ship?”

     The Doctor had tilted his head slightly, listening. “If this is a ship,” he asked thoughtfully, “why can’t I hear any engines?”

     The woman still seemed suspicious, but after a moment of silent glaring, she admitted, “It went dead four minutes ago.”

     The older man by the door cut in with a sharp, “So maybe we should stop chatting and get to Engineering.” The woman shot him a quick glare, and he softened his tone as he added, “Captain.”

     Before she could reply, the same computerized voice from before sounded over the speakers. “ _Secure closure active._ ”

     The captain’s eyes widened in horror. “What?”

     The older man shook his head. “The ship’s gone mad.”

     Before either Molly or the Doctor could ask what was going on, another woman came bolting down the hall towards them. Behind her, doors were automatically sliding shut, the bulky doors locking with an ominous thud.

     She finally reached the small group, panting but annoyed. “Who activated secure closure?” she demanded. “I nearly got locked into Area Twenty-Seven.” Her gaze flicked over to the two newcomers, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Who are you?”

     “Molly Hooper and the Doctor,” Molly introduced them. “We came about the distress signal.”

     The computerized voice sounded again. “ _Impact projection forty two minutes twenty seven seconds._ ” Molly tensed. _Impact? Impact with what?_ Noticing a porthole on the wall, she headed over to take a look out. What she saw rendered her silent in shock.

     The captain looked overwhelmed, but she told her crew as confidently as she could manage, “We’ll get out of this, I promise.”

     “Er, Doctor?” Molly finally managed.

     The Doctor didn’t seem to hear her. Still looking baffled, he questioned the captain, “Forty minutes until what?”

     “Doctor!” Molly tried again. The Time Lord heard her this time and headed over to the porthole beside her. He froze at what he saw, eyes widening in horror.

     The captain sighed and confirmed what their eyes were telling them. “Forty minutes until we crash into the sun.”

     Molly could say with certainty now that they were in the future. Firstly, the view outside was of space rather than the ocean. Second, and more importantly, they were currently in a spaceship that was free-falling towards an enormous, fiery sun.

     The Doctor turned back to the captain, far more urgent now. “How many crew members on board?”

     “Seven, including us,” she answered promptly. She still didn’t seem to trust the Doctor, but she was willing to answer him.

     The older man explained, “We transport cargo across the galaxy. Everything’s automated. We just keep the ship spaceworthy.”

     The Doctor nodded decisively, the turned back to the door they’d come out of, labeled Area Thirty. “Call the others,” he ordered briefly. “I’ll get you out.”

     “No, don’t!” the captain warned, but it was too late. The Doctor pulled open the door and was promptly thrown back by a blast of fire and heat. The younger woman pulled down the welder’s mask on her head and hurried to slam the door shut, bolting and locking it. The Doctor scrambled back to his feet, eyes wide. “But my ship’s in there!” he protested.

     “In the vent chamber?” the young man asked incredulously.

     The Doctor tried to get past the others to get back to the door. “It’s our lifeboat,” he explained.

     “It’s lava,” the older man told him bluntly.

     The younger woman explained grimly, “The temperature’s going mad in there. Up three thousand degrees in ten seconds, and still rising.”

     “Channeling the air,” the younger man continued. “The closer we get to the sun, the hotter that room’s going to get.”

     Molly looked at the door in horror. She could all too easily imagine flames devouring the wooden outside of the TARDIS, reducing the blue box to charred ashes. “Is the TARDIS going to be okay?” she asked worriedly. Beyond being their mode of transport, she’d become fond of the ship in her own right, especially after her gesture with the room.

     The Doctor ran a distracted hand through his wild hair, disheveling it even further. “She can stand a lot, that old girl, but let’s worry about that later.” She could tell he was worried about the ship, but his bigger concern was the lives of the crew. “So, we fix the engines, we steer the ship away from the sun. Simple.” He looked around a bit, eventually picking a hallway and starting down it. “Engineering down here, is it?”

     Time to find out what was going on.

**SCENEBREAK**

     When they reached the engine room, they found the whole place in shambles. Wires were torn, cables unhooked, machines smoking. The Doctor’s eyebrows shot up. “Blimey, do you always leave things in such a mess?”

     The captain stared at the engine room in horrified shock. “Oh my god.”

     “What the hell happened?” the older man demanded.

     The younger man stared at the engines with wide eyes. “Oh, it’s wrecked.”

     “Pretty efficiently too,” the Doctor observed. “Someone knew what they were doing.”

     Molly turned to him with surprise. “You’re saying someone did this on purpose?” she asked. “Why? It would have had to be someone on board, and they’d just get fried with everyone else, wouldn’t they?”

     The captain jogged over to a working computer. She slammed the intercom button and spoke into it. “Korwin, Ashton? Where are you?” No answer came, so she tried again. “Korwin, can you answer?” Still nothing. She turned away with a frustrated growl. “Where the hell is he? He should be up here.”

     The Doctor had made his way over to one of the still-functioning monitors. For a moment, the solemn mood was lifted as the goofy grin returned. “Oh, we’re in the Torajii system. Lovely. You’re a long way from home, Molly. Half a universe away.”

     Molly just shrugged in response. Earth wasn’t home anymore, not really, but she was too embarrassed to say that.

     The Time Lord turned back to the captain. “And you’re still using energy scoops for fusion? Hasn’t that been outlawed yet?”

     The captain looked annoyed at the question. “We’re due to upgrade next docking,” she explained dismissively. She turned to the older man, who was examining the engines. “Scannell, engine report.”

     The man, Scannell, shook his head with frustration. “No response.”

     The captain blinked in shock. “What?”

     “They're burnt out,” he explained, seeming slightly stunned by the wrecked state of the machinery. “The controls are wrecked. I can't get them back online.”

     “Oh, come on,” the Doctor prompted. “Auxiliary engines. Every craft's got auxiliaries.”

     The captain shook her head. “We don't have access from here. The auxiliary controls are in the front of the ship.”

     “Yeah, with twenty nine password sealed doors between us and them,” Scannell added dejectedly. “You'll never get there in time.”

     “Is there any way to get them all open at once?” Molly questioned.

     Scannell shook his head. “No. Sealed closure means what it says. They're all dead-lock sealed.”

     “So, a sonic screwdriver's no use,” the Doctor realized aloud.

     “Nothing's any use,” Scannell countered. “We've got no engines, no time, and no chance.”

     The Doctor and Molly stared at the crew incredulously. They were all covered in sweat from the heat of the approaching sun, and they all wore the same expression of fear and resignation. “Oh, listen to you,” the Doctor scoffed, “defeated before you've even started. Where's your Dunkirk spirit?” No one responded, but they seemed to draw a bit of hope from his words. He turned to the captain. “Who's got the door passwords?”

     Before the captain could reply, the young man spoke up. “They're randomly generated. Reckon I know most of them.” He stuck out a hand, which the Doctor shook quickly. “Sorry, Riley Vashti,” he introduced himself.

     “Then what are you waiting for, Riley Vashti?” the Doctor asked. “Get on it.”

     The young man shook his head. “Well, it's a two person job,” he explained. Riley turned to grab a backpack stashed nearby. “One, a technish for the questions, and the other to carry this.” He held up a rather heavy-looking metal device that looked like a sort of crank handle. “The oldest and cheapest security system around, eh Captain?”

     The woman chuckled, dropping the serious mood for a moment. “Reliable and simple, just like you, eh Riley?”

     Riley shook his head, mockingly insulted. “Try and be helpful, get abused,” he joked. “Nice.”

     Molly had been eying the crank he'd produced. The pathologist wasn't being very helpful in the engine room, and though it looked heavy, she reckoned she could carry it. She'd gotten stronger since that first exhausting adventure. “I'll help you get the doors open,” she offered.

     Riley nodded, accepting. He showed how the backpack held a portable computer and keyboard. “It's remotely controlled by the computer panel,” he explained. “That's why it needs two.”

     He started off immediately, heading back out the way they came. Molly started to follow, but the Doctor stopped her briefly. “Be careful,” he cautioned her.

     Molly smiled. “You too,” she told him. She knew they were minutes away from a painful, fiery death, but she also knew that they could get everyone through this alive. They'd been in worse scrapes, and she knew they could get out of this one too. They always did.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Molly followed Riley out to the first of the bulkhead doors they needed to get through. He paused in front of the door and began tapping away at the monitor on the portable computer. After a few moments, he gave a short nod. “Alright,” he told Molly, “Fix the clamp on.”

     She lifted the device and fixed it to the door, looking over briefly at him typing on the screen. “What are you doing?”

     “Each door's trip code is the answer to a random question set by the crew,” he explained as he worked. “Nine tours back, we got drunk, thought them up. Reckoning was, if we're highjacked, we're the only ones who know all the answers.”

     She nodded in understanding. “So you're typing in the answer, and that activates this handle?”

     “Yep, it sends an unlock pulse to the clamp. But we only get one chance per door. Get it wrong, the whole system freezes.”

     She sucked in a sharp breath. One wrong answer, and the whole thing was over. “Better be sure before we put in an answer then.”

     Riley's gaze ran across the screen. “Okay. Date of the SS Pentallian's first flight.” He quickly typed in the date. A green light lit up on the screen, and Molly felt the clamp vibrate slightly. “That's all right, go!” They were able to pull the door open.

     Molly grinned triumphantly. “That wasn't so bad.”

     He grinned back. “Yeah, only twenty eight more to go,” he joked.

**SCENEBREAK**

     A few minutes later, the Doctor's voice came from the intercom on the portable computer. “ _Molly? Riley? How're you doing?_ ”

     “We're in area twenty nine,” Molly replied shortly. She was holding the clamp up again while Riley tapped away at the monitor. “At the door to twenty eight.”

     “ _Yeah, you've got to move faster._ ”

     “We're working on it,” Molly promised.

     Riley finally pulled up the question. “Find the next number in the sequence three one three, three three one, three six seven.” His brow crinkled in confusion. “What?”

     Molly looked at him in alarm. “I thought you said the crew knew all the answers,” she said uneasily.

     He shook his head. “The crew's changed since we set the question.”

     Her eyes widened. “Right. And we've only got the one guess. Brilliant.”

     Suddenly, the Doctor's voice came again. “ _Three seven nine._ ”

     Molly was surprised at the swift answer. “What?”

     “ _It's a sequence of happy primes,_ ” the Doctor explained briefly. “ _Three seven nine._ ”

     “Are you sure?” Riley asked anxiously. “We only get one chance.”

     Voice sharp with annoyance, the Doctor launched into a rapid-fire explanation. “ _Any number that reduces to one when you take the sum of the square of its digits and you continue iterating until it yields one is a happy number. Any number that doesn't isn't. A happy prime is a number that is both happy and prime. Now type it in! I don't know, talk about dumbing down! Don't they teach recreational mathematics anymore?_ ”

     Looking slightly chastised, Riley typed in the answer the Doctor had given him. The green light flashed and the door unlocked. Molly relaxed slightly with relief. "You were right, it opened."

     " _Keep moving, fast as you can,_ " the Doctor ordered. " _And Molly? Be careful. There may be something else on board this ship._ "

     She and Riley shared a mystified, nervous glance. "What do you mean?" the pathologist asked. "Something alien?"

     " _Not sure yet,_ " came the Doctor's vague answer. " _Just keep moving and let me know if you see something strange._ " With that the connection ended.

     Molly tried to ignore the shiver of fear his words had inspired. Something had sent this ship hurtling towards a fiery doom, and whatever it was, the Doctor seemed to think it was still on board.

      _Well then,_ she thought to herself, _There's no time to waste._ She turned back to Riley. "Let's go." Together they got the door open, them pushed past, ready for the next question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of 42 for all my lovely readers. As I already warned, not straying too far from canon here, and this episode's pretty short. I think I might get this episode done in two parts, since I'm sticking with only Molly's POV throughout the story.
> 
> As I already told you guys, as of tomorrow I am off to the wonderful world of Disney, and I will have very little if any time to write, though I may be able to churn out a chapter or two on the plane rides up and back. Besides, as I said, the chapters after this take a pretty heavy departure from canon, so I'll need some time to plan and research accordingly.


	21. 42: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Riley work to open the doors.

     Molly hefted the clamp onto the door, starting to feel the strain of carrying its weight. She impatiently wiped some sweat off her brow, internally cursing her decision to wear layers. "There's got to be a better way to override a secure lock," she commented flatly.

     Riley let out a groan as he pulled up the next question. "Oh, this is a nightmare. Classical music. Who had the most pre-download number ones, Elvis Presley or The Beatles?" He turned to her with a baffled expression. "How are we supposed to know that?"

     Molly bit her lip. She didn't know much about about classic rock - maybe the Doctor would know? He did know a lot about history after all, he'd probably met the Beatles or Elvis at some point.

     She reached across to the computer and pressed the intercom button. "Doctor?"

     " _What is it now?_ " he asked tetchily. He seemed in a rather snappy mood - then again, they were minutes away from being roasted alive.

     "The next question's giving us trouble," she explained. "Predownload, who had more number-ones, Elvis or the Beatles?"

      " _Elvis,_ " the Doctor answered promptly. Riley started to type in the answer, but the Time Lord's voice came again. " _No! The Beatles! No! Wait! Er, er. Oh, what was that remix? Er, I don't know. I am a bit busy._ "

     Molly bit back a groan. There was no reason to annoy him any more than he already was. "Alright. I'll... dunno, I'll call someone." She pulled out her newly-enhanced phone, hesitating. There was really only one person she could call, but she really didn't want to talk to him, not so soon after that awful night at the pool. But she had no choice.

     She dialed in his home number rather than his mobile - he tended to use it to access the Internet, a call would keep him from being able to. The phone rang a few times, each ring ticking away at the time they had left. Finally, the call was picked up, but the brief " _Hello?_ " on the other end wasn't the voice she'd been expecting.

     "John!" she said with surprise. "Oh, hi. Um, it's me, Molly." The companion felt a rush of relief. Sherlock's roommate was good with computers, if his blog was any evidence, so he could look up the answer pretty quickly. She wouldn't have to talk to Sherlock after all.

     " _Molly! Are you alright? We haven't heard from you since the pool._ " The concern in his tone surprised her. She barely knew him, after all, she'd forgotten his name that day at the pool.

     "Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she assured him quickly. "I've been a bit occupied. Time travel and all that." Riley looked up in surprise at this part, but didn't say anything.

     " _Yeah, I heard about that. After the pool, Sherlock called up Mycroft. Apparently he knew about aliens and time travel the whole time and didn't tell Sherlock. That was a fun conversation. So you're really traveling through time?_ "

     "Er, yeah. Listen, John, could you do me a favor? I need you to look something up for me. And please hurry, it's kind of important."

     " _Sure,_ " he agreed easily, though there was a note of confusion in his tone. She could hear the sound of keys being clicked in the background.

     "Alright, pre-download, who had more number ones, Elvis or the Beatles?"

     The typing paused a moment. " _And this is important?_ " John repeated drily.

     "It's a password, the answer's a password, and we've only got a few minutes left," she explained as rapidly as she could. "Please, John, hurry!"

     He seemed to sense the urgency in his tone, for it only took a few quick minutes of typing before he was able to provide the answer. " _Elvis,_ " he told her.

     Molly told Riley the answer, and he typed it in. They both held their breath until the little green light lit up, then they worked together to pull the door open. "You were right," she told John. "Thank you so much."

     " _No problem._ " Suddenly, a deeper voice sounded in the background, along with John's protest of " _Sherlock!_ "

     There was some feedback, as though the phone had been bumped against something, then a familiar baritone said, " _What time period are you in?_ "

     Molly blushed. "Oh, er, hi Sherlock." Memories of his mortifying deductions about Jim and the showdown at the pool flashed in her mind. "Um, I'm in the future, dunno what year."

     " _Where?_ " His tone was sharp with interest. Her heart sank as she realized he just wanted information about time travel. He didn't care about her. He never had.  
     Her tone carrying more bite than usual, she retorted, "On a spaceship about to fly into a sun if I don't somehow stop it. I'm sorry Sherlock, I don't have time to talk." Hands trembling slightly, she hung up. She didn't look at Riley as she pushed past the door and started towards the next one. "Let's keep going."

     Before Riley could reply, the intercom buzzed on, but it wasn't the Doctor this time. Instead, a woman's terrified scream blared from the computer before being cut short, leaving an eerie silence.

     Molly felt a shiver of fear. She quickly turned the intercom on and spoke into it. "Doctor, who was that? Is someone hurt?"

     All he would say was, " _Concentrate on those doors. You've got to keep moving forward._ " Then the connection cut off again.

     Molly and Riley shared a nervous glance before pushing on. There was something else on board that ship, and it was on the hunt.

**SCENEBREAK**

     By the time they reached Area Seventeen, the heat and the continued weight of the clamp and the backpack had set them both on edge. Riley tapped irritably at the screen, trying to pull up the next question. "Come on!" he growled. He gave the screen an irritated smack, grumbling, "Everything on this ship is so cheap."

     Before Molly could make a reply, a loud thud sounded behind them, followed by the steady groan of one of the bulkhead doors being pushed open. Molly froze, sharing a wide-eyed glance with Riley. Nothing should have been able to open those doors.

     They turned to look towards the opened door, but thick smoke kept them from seeing who had opened it. "Who's there?" Riley called out in a shaky tone.

     A figure emerged from the smoke, advancing slowly towards them. They wore a welder's mask like the woman had on before, which gave them an ominous, threatening look. Riley froze, recognition mixed with uncertainty. "Ashton, what're you doing?"

     The figure, Ashton apparently, continued advancing. Molly felt a tremor of fear, but she forced herself to call out, "Are you alright? Ashton, say something if you're alright."

     Ashton raised a gloved hand, reaching towards them as he advanced. In a low, rasping voice he told them, "Burn with me."

     Molly didn't know what he was talking about, but she knew it wasn't anything good. This must have been what the Doctor was talking about when he said there was something on board. "All right, I'm gonna go with not alright," she remarked shakily to Riley.

     Ashton's hand started towards his face, going for the welder's mask. Molly remembered the woman's scream from earlier and decided not to stick around to see what he was planning. Quickly spying what looked a door to a side hallway, she took Riley's hand. "Come on!" She pulled him towards the door and yanked it open, slamming it shut behind them.

     When she turned to inspect their hiding spot, she found that the side hallway was actually a small control room of sorts. Before she could fully process this, there was an ominous click behind them. They both turned to see a second door sliding shut behind them, with Ashton watching them through the window on the door.

     Riley slumped against the ground, eyes wide. "What is happening on this ship?"

     Molly shrugged. "Dunno. But I bet your mate Ashton there's connected to it somehow."

     Before Riley could defend his crewmate, a computerized voice sounded from the control panel behind them. " _Airlock sealed. Jettison escape pod._ "

     Molly and Riley slowly looked at each other, frozen in fear. "...I'm going to take a wild guess and say this is the escape pod," she ventured quietly. The way the color drained from Riley's face was all the answer she needed.

     She scrambled to reach the intercom button on the computer. “Doctor! Doctor, it's one of the crew members, Ashton, he's trying to launch an escape pod with us in it! We're trapped!”

     The Doctor's reply was a quick, “ _On my way,_ ” then the connection was cut again. At least until the Doctor reached them, they were on their own.

     Molly turned to Riley. “Can you stop us the pod from leaving?” she asked anxiously.

     Looking scared, Riley nodded. He turned to the controls and began typing at rapid speed, while Molly watched, feeling annoyingly helpless. After a few moments, the computer dully informed them, “ _Jettison held._ ”

     Riley let out a slight sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

     Their relief was short-lived, as the computerized voice sounded again a few moments later. “ _Jettison reactivated._ ”

     Molly looked out the window to see Ashton typing on the control panel. “He's still there!”

     Riley returned to his typing, working to repair Ashton's damage even as Ashton worked to jettison them. For a while, it seemed like he was succeeding. He even grinned slightly as he told Molly, “Tsilpinski sequence. This'll get him.”

     He typed in the sequence and was immediately rewarded with the computer's affirmation; “ _Jettison held. Escape pod stabilized._ ”

     For a moment, Molly though that was it, and they were saved. Then the computer's voice gave a last, “ _Jettison activated._ ”

     Riley stared at the monitor in horror. “He's smashed the circuit,” he realized aloud. “I can't stop it.” He turned back to Molly, voice going higher in terror. “I can't stop it!”

     Molly felt a rush of terror. _No. It can't end like this!_ She rushed to the door, trying to pull it open by hand alone, but predictably nothing happened. “There's nothing. We're trapped.” She said the words flatly, still in shock. This was really it. They were going to float helplessly into the sun and there was nothing left to do. Already the escape pod had begun to slowly drift away from the main ship.

     Then, she saw something to give her hope. The Doctor's face had appeared at the window, and he was staring out at the escape pod with horror. She hurried to the window, looking back out at her friend. “Doctor!”

     He tried to shout something to her, but through the doors and the slowly growing distance, she couldn't hear a thing. She shook her head to show she couldn't hear, but he kept shouting. She tried to read his lips – it looked like “I'll save you.” It wasn't much, but she'd trusted him before, and she'd trust him now. He'd promised to save her, and as long as he'd promised, there was something to hope for.

**SCENEBREAK**

     There had been silence in the escape pod since they'd been jettisoned. Neither of them wanted to talk about the inevitable, and Molly didn't want anything said to quash the little hope she still had.

     It was Riley who finally broke the silence. He had been staring out the window at the sun. It was the fiery, blazing force that was about to burn them to death, but it was still so beautiful in it's golds and reds and oranges. He sighed as he looked at it. “The wonderful world of space travel. The prettier it looks, the more likely it is to kill you.”

     Now that the heat was increasing, Molly finally gave in to the urge to shed some layers, taking off her jean jacket and green shirt, leaving only the white tank top. “A few days ago I had a bomb strapped to me by a psychopath who let us live like it was a game,” she remembered shakily. “I lived through that. I was so... _relieved._ And it's going to end now?” She started to feel defeat setting in, but then she shook her head. “No. The Doctor will save us.”

     Riley scoffed. “No, it's too late. Our heat shields will pack in any minute, and then we go into free fall. We'll fall into the sun way before he has a chance to do anything.”

     Molly shook her head stubbornly. “The Doctor's an expert at saving people at the last minute. He'll save us, I know he will.”

     The young man shrugged, suddenly too tired to fight. “Whatever you say.” He looked morosely out the window for a few moments, then turned back to Molly with renewed interest. “Back there on the phone, you said something about time travel?”

     Molly hesitated, but decided to be honest. “Yeah. Me and the Doctor are time travelers. We have this ship, the TARDIS, and it can travel through time.”

     Riley listened, disbelief mixed with wonder. “There's talk of setting up a Time Agency, but I've never heard of two people recreationally time traveling. So are you from the future then?”

     She shook her head with a short laugh. “No, actually I'm from the past. Well, the past for you, this is the future for me. I'm from the 21st century.”

     He blinked at her in shock. “You're kidding me.”

     “Nope. It's the Doctor's ship,” she explained, “he just let me tag along.”

     He shook his head with disbelief. “The 21st century. That's insane. Was there even space travel then?”

     “Of a sort.” She chuckled, then her humor began to fade as she remembered their situation. “Nothing like your ship though.”

     Riley watched her expression with sympathy. “That phone of yours. You said you were calling through time?” When she nodded, he told her gently, “Call someone. Family, friends, someone. Anyone to talk to.”

     Molly started to reply that she had no family left, but something Riley had said stopped her. The phone could call through time, not just to the present. So did that mean...?

     The looked down at her phone, anticipation mixing with fear. Only one way to find out. Hands trembling, she typed in a number she hadn't typed in years. The phone rang for a few, agonizing moments. Then a voice picked up that she'd never thought she'd hear again. " _Hello?_ "

     The breath caught in her throat. She'd seen so many wonderful things, but this, this was something else. " _Dad._ Dad it's me, Molly." She tried to keep her voice calm . Tried not to show her utter joy, the way the tears were burning behind her eyes, because she was talking to her dad again, because she got to hear his voice again one last time before she went herself.

     His tone immediately turned concerned. " _Molly! Is something wrong?_ " It was just so good to hear his voice again that it took a few moments to register her words.

     "Um, yeah, why wouldn't I be alright?"

     " _Well, you're calling from your school event way before the dance is supposed to end, and I don't recognize the number you're using. Are you sure you're alright? Do you want me to come pick you up?_ "

     Molly wracked her brain, trying to remember the event he was talking about. She would have been sixteen at the time . It had been a horrible affair. She'd gone with a few friends, but they'd all gone off to dance, leaving her sitting awkwardly by the wall, completely alone in a crowd of people. Molly knew her sixteen-year-old self would love for her dad to pick her up early, but she couldn't ask him to do that. She distinctly remembered having to stay the whole time, and she didn't want to interfere with established events in time. She didn't have the Doctor's gift of knowing what events could be changed and what couldn't.

     "No Dad, I just wanted to talk," she assured him.

     " _You should be in there with your friends, " he reminded her. "Actual teenage interaction, remember? I thought that was the point of you going to prom, not just sitting around home with your old man._ "

     She smiled at the memories that brought. Molly had always been painfully shy, and her dad had been understanding, but he'd also tried nudging her into social situations to try to build her confidence. If something didn't work out or she had a rough day at school, he was always there for her to come cry to, or just talk. Her mom had died when she was very young, and ever since then it had been just the two of them. Then the summer before college rolled around and and he died, and she'd been left all alone facing four years of pre-paid college eduction. She'd never felt more alone in her life.

     "They're all off dancing," she told him, lying, "I'm sure they'll be back soon. I just wanted to talk a bit."

     The concern faded from her father's tone. " _Alright. What do you want to talk about?_ "

     She let out a little laugh. "Dunno. Anything. Just anything. How was work?"

     " _...you called me to ask about work? Are you sure you're feeling alright?_ "

     "I'm fine." The computer read out the little time they had left, and she knew she had to wrap up the conversation. He didn't need to hear her die. "Listen, Dad, I gotta go, Terri's heading over. I love you." Her voice went kind of teary and chokey at the last part. She never thought she'd get to say that to her dad again.

     Even better was his warm reply. " _Love you too, kiddo._ " She hung up quickly, succeeding in holding back the years only until after she was off the phone.

     Riley watched, tears of his own forming. "I told you it's help," he reminded her quietly.

     Molly looked down at the phone in her hand with wonder. "My dad died more than a decade ago," she told him. "I just called through time. I got to talk to him once last time, and I never thought I'd get that." She looked up at Riley, determination flooding through her. "The Doctor did that for me. He gave me one last talk with a father who's already dead. That's how incredible he is. And he can save us too. He will. I know he will."

     All they could do now was wait, and hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so it turns out there will be another part to this story. You'll probably have to wait a bit.


	22. 42: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Riley wait to be saved.

     They had fallen silent again after that. It had gotten too hot to even think, let alone talk, and the only topic was one neither wanted to face.

     Suddenly, the escape pod gave a sharp jerk, almost like the TARDIS would when she was flying through time. The computerized voice which only minutes before had spelled out their doom now dully informed them, " _Remagnetizing._ "

     Riley gaped at the screen, a relieved laugh escaping him. "We're being pulled back!" Molly rushed to the window to see. Slowly but surely, they were drifting back towards the ship. They could see a small figure clinging to the side of the ship in a spacesuit, messing with the controls.

     "It's the Doctor!" Molly realized. "He saved us! I told you he would!" Both laughing, they shared a quick hug, the melancholy from earlier fading fast. They had survived this, and they would save the ship too, they were sure.

     As they drew nearer, Molly started to grow concerned. The Doctor didn't seem to be working with the controls anymore, but he was still on the side of the ship, staring at the sun behind them. Molly frowned. "Something's wrong. We're going to run into him, but he's not moving."

     They came closer and closer, and still the Doctor didn't get out of the way. He seemed utterly transfixed on the sun, frozen and unable to move. Molly thought for sure they'd crush him, but at the last moment the captain reached out and pulled him into the ship. The escape pod re-connected to the ship, and the doors opened. " _Airlock recompression completed,_ " the computer informed them.

     Riley and Molly scrambled out of the escape pod, grabbing their jackets before they left, and back into Area Seventeen. The captain was trying to help the Doctor, who was on the ground with his eyes shut tightly. Molly dropped down to his side immediately. "Doctor! Are you alright?"

     For a moment, his eyes began to open, and Molly knew something was wrong. Blinding white light was pouring from the Time Lord's eyes, making him look possessed. Molly recoiled slightly at the sight. The Doctor shut his eyes again quickly, groaning loudly in pain. "Stay away from me!" he ordered wildly. Molly ignored the order, staying crouched by his side.

     The captain looked shaken by the Doctor's condition. "What's happened?"

     At the sound of her voice, the Doctor's head spun to face her, his voice wild with rage and pain as he screamed, "It's your fault, Captain McDonnell!"

     Looking increasingly shaken, McDonnell turned to Riley. "Riley, get down to area ten and help Scannell with the doors. Go!" The young man obeyed quickly, throwing a quick, worried glance over his shoulder as he left.

     "You mined that sun," the Time Lord accused her in a wild tone. "Stripped its surface for cheap fuel. You should have scanned for life!" He screamed in pain as Molly did her best to sooth him. "That sun is alive, he continued, "A living organism. You scooped out its heart, used it for fuel, and now it's screaming!"

     "What do you mean? How can a sun be alive?" the captain asked shakily. "Why is he saying that?"

     "Because it's living in me," he growled out between gritted teeth.

     McDonnell's eyes widened in horror. " Oh my god."

     "Humans!" he spat out hatefully. "You grab whatever's nearest and bleed it dry! You should have scanned!"

     "It takes too long," McDonnell defended herself weakly. "We'd be caught. Fusion scoops are illegal."

     Seemingly fed up with the captain, the Doctor swung his head to face Molly. Urgently he told her, "You've got to freeze me, quickly."

     "Freeze you?" Molly repeated. "What do you mean?"

     "Stasis chamber. You've got to take it below minus two hundred. Freeze it out of me! It'll use me to kill you if you don't. The closer we get to the sun, the stronger it gets! Med-centre, quickly! Quickly!"

     Molly didn't need to be to twice. She grabbed the Doctor by the torso and began dragging him towards the door while a baffled McDonnell watched. "Help me!" she snapped, uncharacteristically sharp, at the woman who'd been the cause of this. The captain snapped back into life and hurried to help Molly.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The two were able to carry the Doctor into the med centre in a few minutes time. Together they lifted him up into the stasis chamber. Molly noticed a manual sitting out on a table and ran over to grab it. "I can operate the chamber," she told the captain.

     The Time Lord let out a slight cry of pain. "Molly, where are you?"

     Molly automatically reached for his hand, desperate to comfort him. His skin burned to the touch, and his screams had been reduced to groans. "I'm here Doctor," she assured him desperately. His terror was horrible to watch. He was always the clever one, the one in charge.

     "No, you don't know how this equipment works," the captain protested. "You'll kill him. Nobody can survive those temperatures."

     "He's an alien, and he says he can. And what other choice do we have?"

     "Let me help you, then," she insisted.

     She didn't meet the woman's eyes as she ordered curtly, "I'm fine, thanks." McDonnell hesitated, but finally obeyed, stepping back and watching quietly. Molly skimmed quickly through the manual before heading confidently to the controls. She couldn't afford to freak out now like she had at the hospital, the very first day she had met the Doctor. Then, she had been unsure and scared and had nearly failed. This time was different. This time, she would do this right, to save the Doctor's life.

     "Ten seconds," the Doctor told her between gritted teeth. "That's all I'll be able to take. No more. Molly!"

     She desperately wanted to go and comfort him, but she needed to stay by the machine. "Yes?"

     "It's burning me up. I can't control it. If you don't get rid of it, I could kill you." His pained growl turned into a low whimper. "I could kill you all. I'm scared. I'm so scared. It's burning through me. Then what'll happen?"

     It was horrible to hear the last great Time Lord whimpering in utter terror. Molly was terrified for her friend, but she forced her voice to remain calm as she told him, "Don't be scared. You're going to be fine. You've saved my life before, now it's my turn. I'll help you, Doctor."

     "There's this process," he continued, "This thing that happens if I'm about to die - "

     "You're not going to die," Molly cut him off firmly. "Alright? I won't let you." She finally finished with the machine. "Alright, it's working. You ready?"

     "No," he whimpered, but she started it up anyway. He was her best friend, she wasn't going to fail him. The Time Lord was rolled completely into the chamber, and after a few seconds the temperature began dropping rapidly. Frost began to appear on the Doctor's body, and his skin turned a deathly white. Molly forced herself to breathe normally. This was going to work. It had to.

     Suddenly, the lights on the controls went dim, and the stasis chamber powered off. The Doctor let out a panicked cry. "No! Molly, you can't stop it, not yet."

     "That wasn't me," she told him shakily. "Something's gone wrong with the machine.

     McDonnell read the monitor with concern. "Power's been cut in Engineering," she told Molly.

     "By who?" Molly asked.

     The captain squared her shoulders, pain and determination in her expression. "Leave it to me," she told Molly grimly. Before the pathologist could argue, she turned and headed out of the room, leaving Molly alone with the quickly defrosting Time Lord.

**SCENEBREAK**

     It had been too long; something had gone wrong. The Doctor was completely defrosted now, and the machine still hadn't powered up. "Come on," Molly begged the stasis chamber quietly, "he's going to die soon, come on!"

     From inside the chamber, the Doctor called out to her, "Molly, listen! I've only got a moment. You've got to go!"

     Molly shook her head stubbornly. "I'm not leaving you, alright?"

     Ignoring her protest, he continued, "Get to the front. Vent the engines. Sun particles in the fuel, get rid of them."

     "Doctor, I can't leave you to die!"

     "You've got to give back what they took," he panted out. "Please go!"

     Molly hesitated. He was dying, but if she did what he said, there was still a chance to save him. "Fine. But I'll come back once I'm done. Just... be okay when I get back, yeah?"

     With that, she took off down the hallway as fast as she could. There was a chance, just a slim chance, but she had to try.

**SCENEBREAK**

     When Molly reached Area Four, the intercom by the wall buzzed on. She slowed down reluctantly to answer. " _Molly!_ " a familiar voice cried.

     "Doctor! What are you doing?" He shouldn't have been up and on the intercom.

     " _I can't fight it,_ " he told her in a wildly panicked tone. " _Give it back or..._ " he trailed off for a few moments before continuing in a low, raspy voice, " _burn with me. Burn with me, Molly._ "

     The moment he spoke those words, the same words as Ashton before, she took off. She had to get to the front of the ship _now_.

     She finally reached the front, where Scannell and Riley were trying to start up the auxiliary engines. A dull warning of " _Collision alert_ " was being repeated over and over by the computer. There were only seconds left.

     Riley was staring at the controls in horror. "It's not working. Why's it not working?!"

     "Dump the fuel," Molly ordered, breathless from her run. "Dump it into the sun."

     Riley and Scannell gaped at her. "What?"

     Quickly she explained, "It's the fuel or wants, not us. Just do it!" Looking baffled, but left with little choice, they obeyed. " _Fuel dump in progress. Fuel dump in progress,_ " the computer informed them. Molly felt the ship shudder back to life, and a few moments later the soft _thrum_ of the engines became audible.

     Scannell stared at the monitor with wide eyes, a huge grin spreading across his face. "There! The auxiliaries are firing!"

     " _Impact averted,_ " the computer confirmed. Molly let out a laugh of relief. They'd done it.

     "We're clear," Riley breathed, hardly seeming to believe it. "We've got just enough reserves."

     Now that their safety was assured, Molly bolted back the way she came, not stopping until she'd reached the med centre. As she rounded the corner, she found herself being pulled into a hug by a no-longer-possessed Time Lord. She hugged him back, both of them suddenly very relieved that they had survived.

**SCENEBREAK**

     "This is never your ship," Scannell said with wonder as he stared at the blue box. Now that they had gotten far enough from the sun, Area Thirty was accessible again, and the TARDIS wasn't so much as scorched.

     The Doctor beamed proudly. "Compact, eh? And another good word, robust. Barely a scorch mark on her."

     Only Scannell and Riley had made it of the original seven crew members. Molly felt a rush of sadness for those they'd failed to save, but at least two of them were alive. "Will you be alright? With no fuel and all?"

     "We've sent out an official mayday," Riley assured her. "The authorities'll pick us up soon enough."

     Scannell sighed. "Though how we explain what happened..."

     "Just tell them," the Doctor said firmly. "That sun needs care and protection just like any other living thing."

     With that, the Time Lord retreated into his TARDIS, followed quickly by his companion. He turned to her with a warm grin. "Now, what do you say? Ice skating on the mineral lakes of Kur-ha. Fancy it?"

     Molly grinned back. "Sure!" A sly thought entered her mind, and she smirked as she asked, "Ever skated before?"

     He shrugged. "A bit here and there, though not in a few years. Why?"

     "Oh, no reason," she lied with a smirk. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when she demonstrated the skills a childhood of figure skating had left her with.

     He started towards the console, but after a moment he turned back to her. "By the way, you'll be needing this." The Time Lord handed her a small silver key.

     She looked at it with wonder. "Is this what I think it is?"

     He nodded. "TARDIS key. Frequent flier's privilege." The Doctor sobered a moment, a genuinely warm smile on his face as he said, "Thank you."

     She smiled back. "You're welcome." After a few moments, she started towards the console, grinning back at the Doctor. "Well come on then! Ice skating it is!"

     Adventure and danger and fear could wait for a bit. It was time for the last great Time Lord to have rings skated around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally wrapped up 42. Now this time you actually will have to wait, as I am both on vacation and have to research for the next bit. I won't tell you what's coming up for Human Nature and Family of Blood, only that it's quite a bit different from canon.
> 
> You might be wondering why I cut the romantic bits that Martha had with Frank and Riley. Well, with Frank, Molly was a few years older than Martha, so a romance wouldn't have been as plausible there, not to mention she had a boyfriend at the time. As for Riley, Molly had just been almost killed by the boyfriend that lied to her, and she's shy by nature. Romance was the last thing on her mind.
> 
> The bit at the end about ice skating is a reference to my personal headcanon that Molly was a figure skater growing up. For more about that, you can read my four-part story Home is a Sheet of Ice. And here's a picture I saw online that might outline how her skate with the Time Lord might go: http://m.pinterest.com/pin/134826582566244475/


	23. Human Nature: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to escape the Family of Blood, the Doctor resorts to desperate measures.

     The console was sparking like mad as the Doctor and Molly dove into the TARDIS, the former slamming the door shut behind them. They scrambled to their feet, but before Molly could run for the console, the Doctor put both hands on her shoulders and stared intently into her eyes. "Did they see you?" he demanded.

     Molly stammered, thrown off by the question. "I - I'm not sure - "

     "Did they see you?!" he repeated more urgently. While she shrugged helplessly, his grip on her tightened. "Molly, it's important - did they see your face?"

     More sure now, she shook her head. "No, not my face, I was running with my back to them the whole time."

     Satisfied, the Doctor released her and bolted towards the console. "Off we go!" He threw the TARDIS into the Time Vortex, causing her to shudder and jerk about like never before. Molly had followed him to the console, and now she was forced to cling to it for dear life as the TARDIS careened through the vortex.

     A warning alarm began sounding. The Doctor grabbed the monitor to read, then let out a growl of frustration. "They're following us."

     "How?" Molly asked as she clung to the wildly shaking console. "I thought we were in the Vortex."

     He gave a frustrated snarl as he smacked the console. "Stolen technology, they've got a Time Agent's vortex manipulator. They can follow us wherever we go, right across the universe – they're never going to stop."

     The Time Lord ran an agitated hand through his hair, then paused, the flicker of an idea in his eyes. He seemed reluctant, but after a few moments he sighed. "Unless....I'll have to do it..."

     He spun around with warning and grabbed both of Molly's hands. His brown gaze was unusually intense as he scanned her face. Urgently he asked, "Molly, you trust me don't you?"

     Bewildered, she nevertheless replied with a sure, "Of course, why?"

     "Because, Molly Hooper, it all depends on you." Without further explanation, he dove to grab something behind the console. Molly watched, baffled, as he re-emerged with a large, ornate pocket watch. "Take this watch," he told her solemnly, "'cause my life depends on it. The watch, Molly... the watch is..."

**SCENEBREAK**

     The man woke with a start. For a moment, he struggled to remember where he was. Why couldn't he hear the familiar _hum_ of an engine?

     Then he shook his head to clear it. What was he talking about? Why would there be engines in his room? He sighed and sat up, blinking sleepily. Those dreams were really starting to mess with his head. What nonsense he seemed to dream about these days. Like the one he'd just had, with him and the girl he handed the fob watch. What ridiculous clothes they'd been wearing, and what a strange room. He just wished he could make sense of it.

     Stifling a yawn, he reluctantly got up and dressed, with that dream still there in the back of his mind. Once he was dressed, there was a knock at his door. "Come in," he called out.

     The door opened, and the girl from his dream stepped inside. Unlike the strange blue trousers and jacket from his dream, now she was dressed in a modest dark blue dress, with a light shawl and hair done up in a neat bun. He himself wore a white, puffy-sleeved buttoned shirt with a dark gray waistcoat and darker pants, and a tie.

     The woman smiled as she closed the door behind her. "Good morning Mr. Smith," she greeted cheerfully. As always, she had the morning paper tucked under one arm. She was always reading.

     He grinned back with equal cheer. "Good morning, Miss Molly," he greeted with mock formality.

     Molly pulled out the morning paper, flipping to a page she'd dog-eared. "Nice column, I have to say," she complimented. "They were right enough to hire you at the paper."

     John Smith chuckled as she handed him the paper so he could see. The date read March 2nd, 1865. "You say that every morning," he accused lightly.

     "I mean it though," Molly insisted. "You've got the talent for writing, that's plain to see."

     John shook his head with a sigh. "They hired me because there's hardly any men left to write," he reminded her.

     Molly cheerful smile wavered for a moment. John knew she hated talking about the war. Normally he'd push a little more, but today a different thought was more prominent in his mind. "You know, I've been having these weird dreams lately.

     The woman stiffened, dark eyes suddenly sharp with interest. "Really? What kind of dreams?"

     He shrugged. "Nonsense really. Forget I said anything. Ignore the fantasy and stick to the facts. The lot of a reporter, eh?"

     "At work, yes," Molly agreed, "but I'd love to hear about your dreams."

     "Really?" he asked dubiously. Molly nodded eagerly. Encouraged, he headed over to his desk by the wall. He ruffled through a few drawers before pulling out a small, leather-bound notebook. "Here. I wrote down some of them in this." Molly took the book with a strange mix of excitement and anxiety, as if she wanted to know what was inside but was afraid of what it might mean.

     "It's odd. I dream I'm this... character, I suppose, a doctor." Molly gave a slight start at the word, but didn't say anything as he continued, "He's quite the odd fellow, this Doctor. Always dashing about, never seems to stay still. I'm somewhere new every time."

     Molly smiled, though something seemed off in the expression. "Well, you said you're a doctor. Maybe you're going around helping people?"

     He shrugged. "Maybe. Sometimes it seems like he hurts more than he helps." The woman flinched at that, but quickly returned her attention to the notebook. She paused at a page depicting the blue box. "Ah, yes, that thing always seems to be there. It seems to be his portal to new worlds, a strange flying contraption."

     She smiled almost fondly at the picture. "Does the box have a name?" she asked.

     "Not that I've seen," he replied, somewhat puzzled at the question. "But what does a box need a name for?"

     Molly ignored the question, flipping through the pages until she found something else that made her pause. She held up the book for John to see. "Who's this?" she asked curiously.

     The sight of the face made him falter slightly, but he forced a smile back on his face as he replied, "She's this character I call Rose." Molly froze, comprehension and sympathy dawning in her eyes as she looked at the drawing of Rose. "She's been there a couple times, but she disappears later on. It's... it's strange. She seems almost familiar."

     Molly shrugged. "Maybe she's someone you knew back home?"

     John scoffed. "What, in England? That was ages ago. Why would I be dreaming about someone from there?”

     “Maybe you miss her?” she suggested.

     John's eyes narrowed. “I don't miss anything there,” he insisted stiffly. “We're American now, Molly. Our loyalty should be here."

     "I'm not saying it isn't," she protested. "I'm just saying she could be someone you met in London."

     John shrugged. "Nah, she's just someone I made up." The conversation was taking an uncomfortable turn for him, and for a few moments there was an awkward silence.

     Hesitantly, Molly asked, "John, are you alright?"

     "Yeah," he lied. "Why wouldn't I be?" He began busying himself with the papers on his desk, trying to ignore Molly's knowing look.

     "Come on, John. I know you. You never talk about stuff like this unless you have to. So what is it?"

     John hesitated, then finally admitted, "You were there. Last night."

     "Oh really?" Molly asked warily. "What was I saying?"

     "I'm not sure,” he told her distractedly, memories of the dream flashing in his mind. “I don't always remember words, it's more just flashes. Though I do remember... I was calling you Molly Hooper, not Molly Smith.”

     Understanding dawned on her face. “Is that what this is about?” She rolled her eyes. “John, it was just a dream.”

     He shrugged helplessly. “I don't think we know any Mr. Hoopers, but you never know,” he defended himself.

     Molly let out a patient sigh. “John, you know me. I'm not going to go running off with some guy any time soon. You don't need to worry.”

     John gave her a crooked grin. “Yeah, but what kind of a big brother would I be if I didn't worry about my little sister?” His younger sister just shook her head with a laugh, instantly making him feel better. Satisfied, he assured her, “I believe you, I just worry.”

     Molly just chuckled. “You know,” she said as she took a seat on the bed across from his chair, “most brothers would be absolutely dying to get their thirty-plus year-old sister out and married.”

     “And most women aged thirty-plus years would be dying to get herself married,” he countered playfully.

     His sister rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and then I can be bossed around by a misogynistic Victorian man for the rest of my life. No thank you.”

     He shook his head with a laugh. “You have such a dim view of marriage, little sister.”

     “Well it's not like you're actively looking for someone,” Molly defended herself.

     John sobered at the words. “There's no point in looking for anyone,” he said softly. “Not with everything that's going on. Not if I'm leaving soon.”

     “John,” Molly interrupted sharply.

     He rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, we've talked about this.” It was a subject neither wanted to breach, because they'd quarreled so often about it. So he let it drop for now.

     After a few awkward moments, Molly finally stood. “I'm heading out into town,” she told him. “Mind if I borrow that book of yours? Just for a bit?”

     “To take into town?” he asked with confusion.

     “Just to keep it with me,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I know a nice place to sit and read.”

     He hesitated for a moment, protectiveness over the journal flashing through his mind. _Mine. Mythoughtsmymemories. Medreamsareme._ Then he shook his head, irritated with his irrational thoughts. “Sure, go ahead.”

     She reached down to grab it, then hesitated, unease flashing in her eyes. “Listen, John. Just... be careful who you tell about these dreams. It's fine here, but it's just going to sound like nonsense to anyone else. Ignore the fantasy and stick to the facts, right?”

     John was surprised by the urgency in Molly's tone. “Sure, but they're just dreams, right? What does it matter?”

     She hesitated, gaze searching and unusually intense, then sighed. “Right. Just dreams.” She straightened, then headed for the door. “I'll see you later, alright?” Her voice was more friendly now, the tense moment forgotten.

     He smiled. “See you.” She closed the door behind her, leaving the man alone with his thoughts, trying to forget the dreams that seemed so strangely real.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The “siblings” had rented out two rooms above a barber's shop in the small town of Allentown, Pennsylvania. Molly descended down the narrow staircase that led to the shop. The kindhearted barber, Mr. Sanders, and his wife greeted her cheerfully as she descended into the shop and headed out into the town. After a bit of necessary shopping, she followed the familiar pathway into the woods, following the twists and turns until she came across the small shack.

     She smiled as she pushed open the door to reveal the familiar blue box. Molly pulled the TARDIS key from the necklace she kept hidden behind her dress collar, then turned the key in the lock and pushed the doors open. The familiar console room greeted her, the domed roof and metal rotor a relieving sight after having to spend days on end with a Doctor who had no clue who he really was.

     Molly sighed, letting the tension roll off her shoulders. “Hello old girl,” she greeted the ship warmly. The TARDIS gave no reply. The ship's lights were dimmed, and the time rotor was completely still. It was eerie how silent the ship had become since the change. Molly liked to tell herself that the TARDIS was asleep, keeping her owner's memories safe and sending them to him in dreams. “He dreams about you, girl,” she told the ship, giving the console a familiar pat. “He's drawn you in this book of his. Doesn't remember what you're called though. That'd give him a bit of a shock, wouldn't it? Learning he's got a Time and Space machine waiting for him in the woods, just waiting for him to remember who he is.” Talking to the ship, even in this slumbering state, made her feel better. The TARDIS was the only proof left that she hadn't dreamed those travels through time and space.

     Her mind flashed back to that day two months ago, the last time she'd seen the Doctor as the Time Lord she'd met him as.

      _A warning alarm began sounding. The Doctor grabbed the monitor to read, then let out a growl of frustration. "They're following us."_

_"How?" Molly asked as she clung to the wildly shaking console. "I thought we were in the Vortex."_

_He gave a frustrated snarl as he smacked the console. "Stolen technology, they've got a Time Agent's vortex manipulator. They can follow us wherever we go, right across the universe- they're never going to stop."_

_The Time Lord ran an agitated hand through his hair, then paused, the flicker of an idea in his eyes. He seemed reluctant, but after a few moments he sighed. "Unless....I'll have to do it..."_

_He spun around with warning and grabbed both of Molly's hands. His brown gaze was unusually intense as he scanned her face. Urgently he asked, "Molly, you trust me don't you?"_

_Bewildered, she nevertheless replied with a sure, "Of course, why?"_

_"Because, Molly Hooper, it all depends on you." Without further explanation, he dove to grab something behind the console. Molly watched, baffled, as he re-emerged with a large, ornate pocket watch. "Take this watch," he told her solemnly, "'cause my life depends on it. The watch, Molly - the watch is me."_

_Molly stared at the watch, now completely lost. “Wait, what do you mean?”_

_“Those creatures are hunters,” he told her quickly, “they can sniff out anyone – and me being a Time Lord, well, I'm unique. They can track me down across the whole of time and space.”_

_His companion wrinkled her brow. “And what does this have to do with the watch?”_

_The Doctor explained, “They can smell me, they haven't seen me. And their life's bound to be running out – so, we hide, wait for them to die.”_

_“How?” Molly asked._

_The Time Lord hesitated, uncertainty flashing in his eyes for a moment, before his grip tightened on the watch. “That's why I've got to do it. I have to stop being a Time Lord. I'm gonna become human.”_

     The statement had shocked Molly. She'd had no idea he could possibly do something like that. Even worse was the revelation that he'd have all of his memories rewritten, leaving her completely alone to protect someone not even aware they were in danger.

      _The Doctor connected the strange metal helmet to his head, a look of nervous anticipation on his face. “Never thought I'd use this. All the times I've wondered..”_

_“What is it?” Molly asked. She was getting truly confused at this point. How on Earth was the Doctor going to become human, and what did the watch have to do with it?_

_“Chameleon Arch. Re-write my biology. Literally changes every single cell in my body. I've set it to human. Now, the TARDIS will take care of everything. Invent a life story for me, find me a setting and integrate me. Can't do the same for you...you'll just have to improvise. I should have just enough residual awareness to let you in.”_

_Molly thought about that uneasily. “Changing every cell in your body? Isn't that going to hurt?”_

_A strange look flashed in the Time Lord's eyes. “Oh yeah. It hurts.”_

     Molly shuddered as she remembered the horrible sight of the Doctor's pain. That machine had sent him into terrible screams of agony as it rewrote every cell in his body. That was a memory she'd rather not relive, so instead she headed over to the monitor on the console. After tweaking a few controls, the monitor zapped to life, and the Doctor appeared on screen. It was so good to see him in the familiar brown pinstripe again, and to see the old eyes of a Time Lord, rather than the youthful face of John Smith.

     “ _This working?_ ” He tapped the screen experimentally before settling back in his chair. “ _Molly, before I change here's a list of instructions for when I'm human. One, don't let me hurt anyone. We can't have that, but you know what humans are like. Two, don't worry about the TARDIS, I'll put it on emergency power so they can't detect it, just let it hide away. Four- no, wait a minute, three. No getting involved in big historical events._ ”

     There was more to the video, but Molly paused it there, staring sadly at the screen. _No getting involved in big historical events,_ the Doctor had told her. _Don't let me hurt anyone._ She sighed. “I'm trying. I'm really trying, Doctor,” she said sadly, “but you're a stubborn human.”

     She pulled out the newspaper from earlier. One of the headlines read: “CIVIL WAR RAGES ON.” The title sent chills up the pathologist's spine. The American Civil War was almost surely some sort of fixed point in time, but that wasn't even what concerned her. What happened if John signed up and got himself killed? As a human he wouldn't be nearly as strong or resilient as he was as a Time Lord. Or worse, what if he killed other humans? He had told her not to let him hurt anyone. He would never forgive himself if his human form resorted to murder. She wouldn't let him. She would not fail him like that. But try as she might, she couldn't see a way to stop him.

     Except for that one, desperate last measure. The one she'd promised not to take unless there was no other choice. She fast forwarded through the rest of the video, finally letting it play near the end. “ – and twenty three. If anything goes wrong, if they find us, Molly, then you know what to do. Open the watch. Everything I am is kept safe in there. Now, I've put a perception filter on it so the human me won't think anything of it, to him it's just a watch. But don't open it unless you have to. Because once it's open, then the Family will be able to find me. It's all down to you, Molly. Your choice. Oh – and thank you.” With that, the video ended.

     She sighed, leaning back as she considered her options. It had been two months since the change, and it had become increasingly clear that there was a serious problem. John Smith seemed determined to do his part in the war, and as a woman, even with a “brother” as understanding as John, she had little influence on that decision. But if she opened the watch, the Family of Blood would be able to find him. There had to be another way. She would just have to do her best to find it.

     But if there was no other choice, she would open the watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was that about you having to wait for another chapter? *sheepish grin* It's like I compulsively can't not work on this story. Something's wrong with me.
> 
> Anyway, as I said, this story takes a pretty different path from canon. The TARDIS chooses a different time period to dump John Smith in, and Molly becomes the Doctor's sister rather than his servant. That is meant to reflect their companion-Doctor relationship. The Doctor's like a protective older brother for her, and Molly is the sister that's steadily proving herself to her brother.
> 
> I've done a bit of research on the era, but I really couldn't find a lot of information on Civil War era journalists. Journalism yes, the actual writers no. So I have no idea how much they earn and what kind of conditions they lived in. So this here is mostly guesswork.
> 
> I hope you guys like the direction I'm taking this story.


	24. Human Nature: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly reflects on the two months since the Doctor's transformation.

     After a shower in her bathroom in the TARDIS, a luxury that did not yet exist in Civil-War stricken America, she took John's notebook and headed back into the console room.

     There were a lot of interesting things in there, only a few of which she'd recognized, but the one that caught her interest was the drawing of Rose. She studied the face with interest. So this was the great Rose Tyler, the love the Doctor had lost to a parallel world. The woman he couldn't even admit he'd loved. She seemed pretty, from the little that he'd drawn, but there was also a sort of determination in her eye, a knowing quirk to her lips, that left her with no doubt that Rose Tyler had been strong in her own right.

     She sighed sadly as she closed the notebook. "He remembers her, girl," she said aloud to the TARDIS. "In his dreams. He really must love her." Molly looked at the notebook in her hands for a moment, sympathy for the Doctor heavy in her heart. "If only there was a way to get her back." But there wasn't. Two universes would collapse if anyone tried traveling between the parallel worlds, and if the Doctor couldn't find a way around that, she knew she'd never be able to. Rose was lost.

     Molly made sure she had everything she'd come with, then exited the TARDIS, leaving her safe in the little shed in the woods. After two months of regular visits to the ship, the path she used to return to town was well worn. In no time at all the trees cleared and she was back in the small town of Allentown.

     The surrounding area was mostly farm country, but the place did have a small newspaper, "The Allentown Inquirer." John Smith had been hired as one of the few writers on staff. The pay wasn't good, but it was enough to let them rent out the rooms above the barber's shop, and it was only for another month, although John wasn't to know that. He was a good writer, very politically intelligent, but a bit naive to the true nature of war.

     As she made her way back through town, Molly could hear the sneers and feel the glares of the other women of the town. Besides just being the newcomer, she was seen as a great oddity. A woman passed thirty years of age and not yet married. Shamelessly living off the charity of her brother. What an outrage, what a scandal. What a source of bland, tasteless gossip.

     The whispering had unnerved her when they'd first arrived, but now it just served to annoy. Who really cared what they thought? She'd stood up to Daleks, outwitted Judoon, and defeated countless other aliens at the Doctor's side. Who cared what some silly, air-headed Victorian-era people thought of her?

     Most of them only went so far as to whisper, but one of her bolder critics stopped her on the street. "Ms. Smith," she greeted primly, emphasizing the _Ms._ "How lovely to see you again."

     Molly dipped her head slightly, forcing back her distaste. "Mrs. Howard," she replied coolly. The woman was dressed in a fine emerald dress, with her narrow, pinched face peering out at her from under a white bonnet. Mrs. Howard was the wife of the newspaper's owner - John's boss, a fact Mrs. Howard clearly took delight in.

     The unpleasant woman sniffed scornfully, her beady eyes darting across Molly's face. "My dear, there's a matter I've been wishing to discuss with you. It's about your brother." Molly stiffened at the mention of John, but gave a slight nod for Mrs. Howard to continue.

     She drew herself up grandly; Molly was hit with the image of a chicken ruffling its feathers. "Ms. Smith, I have been hearing some distressing rumors. I don't wish to upset you," Molly gritted her teeth at how false the woman's voice sounded, "but I feel you must hear it from me. There are whispers that your brother has not yet submitted his name for conscription."

     Molly froze. It was mandatory by law to submit the names of any males aged between 17 and 50 for reference for the state, so that they could be selected for the draft. John thought his name had been submitted, but Molly had made sure it had never been mailed. They were only going to be there a month longer, and she wasn't about to lose the clueless Time Lord to the draft.

     She lied quickly, "Of course he has." The pathologist wondered briefly how Mrs. Howard had learned about it in the first place. As the wife of the paper's owner, she must have connections.

     Mrs. Howard didn't seem convinced , but nonetheless she gave Molly a simpering smile. "I'm glad to hear it, my dear." Molly began to walking away, hoping that was the end of the conversation, but the older woman kept pace as she continued, "My husband speaks so very highly of dear Mr. Smith, so I'm sure the rumors were only that. Why, if that sweet man had not only avoided enlistment, but submitting his name as well, I should not know what to think!"

     Enlistment. Volunteering your services to the military. Just the thing Molly feared most for John. She bit back a bitter retort and instead told her, "Thanks for your concern."

     Mrs. Howard nodded primly. "That's quite alright dear." With snide, false concern, she continued, "You must be careful, you know. With you and John being... ah, _foreign,_ there will always be rumors of disloyalty. Not doing your part in the war would have dire consequences. We only want John to be safe and to do his part, you understand."

     Molly's irritation was at a boiling point. She fought to keep her voice even as she replied, "I understand perfectly Mrs. Howard. Why should you want my brother to go to war? It would only be one less man for your husband to pay." She ignored Mrs. Howard's outraged expression and hurried away, glad when the vile woman finally took the hint and left.

     Beside her own odd status as a spinster, she and John were also sources of gossip for being English immigrants. Tensions were high, even as the war began to draw to a close, and being an outsider was only a further reason to be mistrusted at the moment. It wasn't as bad is it would be later in American history, as Molly had learned through her travels with the Doctor, but it was still irritating, especially as they were the only immigrants in the small town of Allentown.

     The more worrying part of this ostracization was John's reaction to it. He hated his loyalty being doubted, and the more they sneered, the more desperate he seemed to prove himself to them. It was a hard puzzle to solve. Molly stifled a sigh, pushing on towards the barber's shop. _One more month,_ she told herself wearily. _One more month and we'll be back on the TARDIS._

     As she pushed her way into the shop, Mrs. Sanders looked up from sweeping by the chairs. "Ah, good afternoon Mrs. Smith," the older woman greeted pleasantly. She and her husband were two of the few in town to treat Molly and John decently. The barber's wife took in her expression with a light chuckle. "My, looks like someone's got you all riled up. Anyone I know?"

     "The usual," Molly replied ruefully.

     Mrs. Sanders shook her head with a laugh. "A right piece of work, that Olivia Howard. Still, you're home now, and John should be back soon. No need to worry yourself over her anymore."

     Molly shrugged. "I guess." Mrs. Sanders was a kind woman and a good friend, but she didn't understand just how stressful Molly's life had been these last few months. But she did help Molly's mission in one way - she was a very knowledgeable gossip. Normally, Molly would've just listened to be friendly, but right now that kind of information was exactly what she needed. Besides making an unknowing Time Lord behave, she also had another problem to worry about; the Family of Blood.

     The Family hadn't made an appearance in the two months they'd been in Allentown. She didn't know anything about them beyond the little the Doctor had been able to convey before his change, but one thing he had mentioned was that the Family were gaseous lifeforms that invaded the bodies of other species. If they were going to come after the Doctor, they would probably do so looking like humans. Every day Molly inspected Mrs. Sander's gossip for any signs of the Family – odd behavior, people going missing, any sign of alien activity.

     Mrs. Sanders finished sweeping and leaned her broom against the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. “There, that's better.” She gave Molly a friendly grin. “Did'ya hear about them falling stars last night?”

     Molly's interest was instantly caught. “What falling stars?” she asked sharply.

     “Just last night, a falling star fell towards the woods past town. I didn't see it, but Lily Rogers down the way saw it when she was heading home from town. Did you see it? I know you stay out sometimes reading.”

     “Er, no, didn't get the chance. Mrs. Sanders, did Lily say anything about what it looked like? The falling star, I mean. Anything at all?”

     The woman seemed surprised by her intensity. “Um, I think she said something about a green flash of light. Why?”

     Molly's mind raced. No meteoroid she'd ever heard of came with a green flash. That meant that, most likely, a spaceship had landed in the forest near Allentown. It could be anyone, but Molly wasn't a great believer in coincidence, not after all she'd seen on the TARDIS. It could only mean one thing; the Family had followed the scent here. They were here.

     Her initial instinct was to go and investigate, but she forced herself to reconsider. Going and investigating the spaceship that wasn't supposed to be there would only draw attention to herself. Her job wasn't to find out about the Family, her job was to hide from them until they died. What they had to do now was keep a low profile and keep from drawing attention to themselves.

     Mumbling a quick “thanks” to Mrs. Sanders, she hurried upstairs, wondering desperately how she was going to convince John to lay low for the next month.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Molly was waiting anxiously when John finally returned. She'd been wracking her brain for ideas, trying to think of a way to convince him to stick around the house as much as possible for the next month, but nothing had made itself apparent. She'd just have to play it carefully day by day.

     The Time Lord-turned-human was a bit of a puzzle to her, not least of all her being his sister. Molly had been surprised at first by the role he'd chosen for her, but it honestly didn't feel any different from how they normally interacted, other than the Doctor being slightly more youthful and naïve. It had been several months since she'd first met the manic, zany Time Lord, and in that time she had become far more comfortable with him than she ever could have imagined. In the two months since the change, she'd found herself secretly wondering if that was how the Doctor really saw himself to her – as a protective brother. It was silly, but she hoped so.

     Today, however, he didn't seem as pleased to see her. His expression was unusually solemn as he sat by the desk, across from her. "Mr. Howard pulled me aside today," he told her. "He wanted to ask if I'd submitted my name for conscription." He looked at her with eyes tight with weary anger. "I told him my sister had mailed that months ago. Was that right?"

     Molly stiffened. John was certainly more naive and bumbling than his Time Lord counterpart, more mild-mannered and not as hardened, but two months as his sister had her convinced he was more or less the same man. Which meant the disappointment in his eyes hurt. She hated letting him down, but it was for his own good. If only she could explain why.

     But she couldn't, so instead she lied, "Of course I did, I did that months ago, remember?"

     John studied her face for a few moments. He finally sighed. "You're lying."

     Molly knew there was no point in trying to hide it any further. A bumbling, naive human he may be, but that Time Lord intelligence was still in there somewhere. Evenly she admitted, "Yes."

     The reporter's expression hardened at her admission. "Molly, I understand your fear of the war. I try to be as understanding as I can. But what you did was illegal."

     Molly searched for an excuse, any excuse. Something to convince this man to let himself be protected from a danger she couldn't name. "I did what was best for you," she explained weakly.

     "Molly, you broke the law," he reminded her sharply. "No one has the right to that. And you can't just lie to me about things like that. You've got a problem with me fighting in the war, tell me to my face, you don't go behind my back like that."

     Frustration flared up in Molly. "I have! I can't count how many times I've told you why going off and fighting is the worst thing you can do! Our life is here, John, and I keep trying to tell you that, but you don't listen!"

     "That's because it's my choice, Molly," John told her. "It's my life, and I'm the only who gets to make that decision."

      _But you wouldn't be making it,_ Molly thought sadly. _Not if you could remember the Time War, and all the awful times you've had to end a life. You'd never make this choice._ Aloud, she tried to reason with him. "John, you know as well as I do that the war is almost over. The south can't keep fighting much longer. The union is going to win, it doesn't need your help."

     She didn't add that there were mere days left until the war ended - until April 9th to be exact, and it would be a union victory. Her phone had internet, and she'd done some reading the minute they'd arrived. The Civil War would be over soon, and there was no reason for the last Time Lord to get himself killed over a war that was already won.

     "All the more reason to do my part now," John countered.

     "Your part is here, as a writer," Molly reminded him stubbornly. "You report about the war. That's your part in it."

     John snorted. "And that's supposed to be enough?" he asked coldly. "Sitting back and listening to them whisper about me while men are out there fighting and dying for freedom? I'm loyal to my country and I'll do what it takes to prove it Molly, with or without your permission."

     She looked at the man across from her, so passionate about freedom and defending innocents. So like the Doctor. But he didn't understand. "War doesn't prove anything," she told him quietly. "Just who can kill better. A great man once told me that. He told me that he'd seen enough war to last ten lifetimes, and that everyone loses in war. Could you really do it, John? Kill to prove a point?"

     There was a flash of uncertainty in John's eyes, but it was soon replaced by a steely look. "I'll kill whoever it takes to defend civil rights," he growled. "Not that you'd understand, little sister." He turned away, a clear and cold dismissal.

     Molly looked at him sadly. There was the fury of a Time Lord in those words, but with none of the wisdom of his nine hundred years. She had no idea how to convince him not to fight, but as long as he didn't sign up in the next month, they were safe.

     She turned and headed out of the room, resolving to repeat the argument every night for the next month if that's what it took to keep the Time Lord off the battlefield.

**SCENEBREAK**

     John Smith didn't watch as his sister sighed and quietly left the room. After she was gone, he sighed, the angry tension easing from his shoulders. They had argued about the war before, but this time had been far worse than before. And still Molly continued to be stubborn, going so far as to go behind his back and stop his name from being submitted. She seemed completely shameless about it too. He'd had no idea his sweet-tempered little sister could lie like that.

     Not that he'd been entirely truthful either. He wanted to defend the freedom and rights of all men, true, but there was another reason for wanting to go to war. One that he'd never admit to anyone, not even Molly; he wanted to prove his loyalty to his country, not to the people around him, but to himself.

     He and Molly had lived in America for a couple decades now, but though it was where they'd been taken in and raised, he didn't have any deep-set feeling of _this is home._ That scared him. A proper American was supposed to love his country deep in his gut, but he felt nothing, only a vague longing to wander. He wanted that sense of home, and if the only way to do that was to fight for his country, then that's what he'd do.

     The man looked back at the door with a sigh, already regretting his outburst. He hated fighting with Molly. She was his little sister after all. But lately she'd been acting strangely. Ever since they'd moved to Allentown she'd been more solemn, more hardened. Sometimes it seemed like she knew more about him than he even knew about himself. Other times, it was like she didn't know him at all, like he was a stranger - or perhaps it was she who was the stranger, a woman who'd seen and done things he'd never even dream about.

     Even stranger was the feeling of not knowing who he was. The vague need to wander was only the start of it. It was as though his own personality, history, everything was something that he'd been told, not something he knew and felt. He felt _lost,_ and he hated it. Fighting would give him something to do, something to feel and want. Something to define him.

     But try as he might, he saw no way to enter the war without breaking his sister's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Forgot to say it earlier, but yes, the bit with "Molly could hear the sneers and feel the glares" was totally and completely a AVPM reference. Because I'm a dork, and I could.
> 
> Here's a bit of insight into John and Molly's states of mind at the moment. More soon.
> 
> I did as much research as I could, but there's stuff in here that was fudged. I couldn't find anything about how the conscription process worked during the Civil War; I'm basing this on what I read about WWI.


	25. Human Nature: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly tries to find a way to convince John not to go to war.

     After Molly left John's room, she headed slowly into her own, sitting down on her mattress. She hated arguing with John; it was, essentially, arguing with the Doctor, and something just seemed so incredibly wrong about that. One doesn't argue with the timeless god who'd seen dynasties fall and traveled to world's end and back. But even since the beginning of her travels with him, the she saw him less as a god and the more she as a man, both a friend she was glad to have and a flawed and conflicted being, one that made mistakes. Still, he was a friend she trusted, and not one that she argued with lightly.

     Unfortunately, these fights with John were getting more frequent and more heated. She had lived with John Smith for two months now, and that time had her convinced that he wasn't just using the Time Lord's body; he actually was the Doctor. The Doctor with different memories, thirty-six years' worth of human memories instead of his nine-hundred years' worth of wisdom and heartbreak. Same personality, but changed through naivety and Victorian values.

     John had the same passion and general convictions as his Time Lord self, but without the memories and lessons learned over nine hundred years to temper that passion, he was an exceedingly reckless and foolhardy individual. A man dying to do whatever it took to defend his convictions but not understanding the price connected. He wanted so badly to fight in the war, but without his memories of the Time War he had no real understanding of war and what it was like to take a life, and Molly had no way of making him understand.

     With a sigh, she pulled the satchel she had taken into town off of her shoulder. It was a simple, brown bag, but she was almost never without it. Inside, she had stored a few things from the modern era – her cell phone, her wallet, a phone charger – some money from Civil War era America, and a few other useful things. But the most important of them all was one thing she was never without, one she didn't want to leave at home and didn't trust John enough not to get rid of.

     She took it out slowly, turning it over in her hand. The watch was simple in design, but the front was embellished with an intricate design of circles and lines. It looked like some form of writing, one she'd seen around the TARDIS before, but the TARDIS translation matrix wouldn't translate it for her. Since it was on the Doctor's fob watch, she assumed it was probably a language from his planet. She'd have to ask him about it after this was all over.

     The watch contained the Doctor's memories. She knew that the man in the room she'd just left really was the Doctor, but it still felt comforting knowing that part of the man she traveled with, his wisdom, was somewhere safe. “I don't know what to do, Doctor,” she confided quietly to the watch. “I'm alone and I'm scared I'm going to lose you, and I don't know how to stop you from going.”

     The watch was warm in her hands, but there was no reply. She was on her own.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The next few days were tense. The "siblings" tiptoed around each other, neither wanting to fight again but neither willing to back down.

     Molly spent most of her time inside her room now, considering it too risky to go outside now that she knew the Family was about. She couldn't do anything to draw attention to them, not when they were so close to the end. Instead, she helped Mrs. Sanders around the shop and kept up to date on gossip. Since the ship landed, there had been plenty of it.

     "I think Mr. Coleman might be coming down with something," Mrs. Sanders mentioned off-hand a few days after the big fight with John.

     Molly tried to act casual as she probed, "The grocer down the street? How do you reckon?"

     "Well, when I saw him earlier, he was acting all funny. You know that man can talk your ear off, but he was being all quiet-like, sniffing and staring. Probably some kind of cold."

     The pathologist nodded and murmured in agreement, but internally she digested the information. If her instincts were right, Mr. Coleman had probably been possessed by one of the Family. She had no proof, of course, but the last few months of dangerous travel through time and space had taught her to be wary of coincidences and odd behavior. Right now, there could be no such thing as being too careful.

     She did her best to keep John around the house after work, to run less chance of him running into one of the Family. She didn't know how many of the Family there were, or whether they'd be able to tell John was the Doctor upon meeting him, but she wasn't taking any chances.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Several days after their fight, Molly was down in the barber's shop helping out late at night. She was sweeping around one of the chairs in the back when she heard the front door open with the light tinkling of the bell. A late customer, no doubt. She withdrew to the far end of the shop, as far from the front as she could get. Helping around the shop was a great way to burn time, but she tried to avoid the customers as much as she could without seeming suspicious. Any one of them could be part of the Family.

     After several minutes, Mrs. Sanders came into the back of the shop, smiling cheerfully as always. It had been a while since she'd heard the door open, and in that time she hadn't heard the customer leaving. "Tricky customer?" she questioned as Mrs. Sanders swept in.

     "Hmm? Oh, no dear, that was your brother," the petite old woman explained as she hung up her apron.

     Molly blinked in surprise. "John?"

     "Oh yes, dear," Mrs. Sanders told her amiably. "He popped out half an hour ago. Didn't say where he was headed, but he had a bag with him."

     "A bag?" She didn't know what it meant, but she was starting to get a horrible feeling. Why would John leave late at night without any warning?

     Not pausing to say goodbye to Mrs. Sanders, Molly dropped her broom and bolted for the stairs. She clambered up as quickly as she could and pushed past the door into John's room.

     The first thing she noticed was that it was clean. Too clean. John, like the Doctor, was not a tidy man. Molly's room was probably the neatest one on the TARDIS, which was cluttered with no end of junk and artifacts. Usually, John's room was very much the same. But now the bed was neatly made, the floor completely clear of clutter. That was all Molly needed to see to know something was very, very wrong.

     Heart frozen in fear, Molly approached the bed. A note lay neatly on the sheets, covered in John's untidy scrawl. Molly picked it up with trembling hands.

      _My dear sister,_

_You're a clever girl. If you're reading this, you've already guessed what's happened. I mailed in my enlistment to the army, and I've been accepted. I'm leaving on a train this evening to join the 35th PA Infantry. There you go, now you know where to send your letters._

_I'm sorry for sneaking out on you like this, but if I'd told you I was going you would have tried to make me stay. If something happens, I don't want your last memory of me to be a fight. We've fought enough in the past days. The war will be over soon, and I'll be back, and we can get on with our lives. Please don't worry about me, Molly. I'll be home before the month is out._

_Your brother always, John._

     Molly's heart forgot how to beat. _No. I can't have lost him. Not now._

     She hurtled down the stairs again, pushing past a bewildered Mrs. Sanders as she bolted out of the store. The pathologist sprinted through the emptied streets of Allentown, desperately hoping she could make it to the train station before it was too late.

     "Station" was a generous term at best. There was a little booth where people purchased their ticket, then a long wooden platform where you waited for the train to arrive. It wasn't fancy, but it was what the town had. Molly sprinted through the streets as quick as she could towards it, but the low whistle of a train, and the sound of the train departing, told her she was already too late. But still she pushed on.

     By the time she reached the station, the train was already gone, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. Molly stood in the platform, trembling and panting from her run, staring desperately down the tracks. _He's gone. I didn't stop him and now he's gone._ She leaned over, hands on her knees, trying desperately to get air back into her lungs.

     As she recovered, the pathologist began to notice people staring at her. Molly straightened, dusting off her dress nervously. She didn't honestly care what these stuck-up Victorians thought of her, but if any of the Family were about, they would have seen her desperate rush for the station. She could only hope none of them had. She had bigger problems at the moment.  
 **SCENEBREAK**

     Molly made her way straight from the train station to the woods. She needed to know where John had gone, and she had a feeling a simple Internet search wouldn't cut it. She was going to need help.

     She cut quickly through the woods to the shed where the TARDIS lay concealed. After fumbling with the lock for a bit, she was able to push her way into the blue box, shutting the door hurriedly behind her.

     Once she was sure the doors were locked securely, she turned to the satchel on her shoulder, digging quickly through the contents until she reached her cell phone. She hesitated a moment before dialing, but she needed help, and he was the only one she'd be able to ask. Reluctantly she tapped in the number she hadn't called in months.

     There were a few short rings, then the short click of someone picking up. “ _Hello?_ ”

     Molly smiled slightly at the familiar voice. “Mrs. Hudson, hi.”

     “ _Molly dear!_ ” The woman's voice was full of it's usual friendly cheer. Molly had only met Sherlock's landlady a few times, but she had always seemed like such a sweet old lady. “ _I haven't seen you in ages. How are you? The boys said you've been traveling._ ”

     “Er, yeah,” Molly agreed distractedly. “Listen, Mrs. Hudson, I need to talk to Sherlock.”

     Mrs. Hudson hesitated. “ _Ooo, I don't know that now's the best time, dear. The boys are in with a client._ ”

     Molly rubbed her temple, trying to keep her irritation to a minimum. “Just trust me. He'll want to talk to me. Can you just put him on, please?”

     There was a slight sigh on the other end, then Mrs. Hudson agreed, “ _Alright, just a tic._ ” There was slight static as the phone was carried, quiet murmurs in the background, then the phone was picked up again.

     As usual, Sherlock cut right past the usual greetings. “ _I'm busy,_ ” he informed her brusquely.

     At the detective's curt dismissal, her patience snapped. “Listen Sherlock, I have been stuck in Civil War era America for the last two months, looking after a Doctor who can't remember who he is, hiding from an enemy I don't know, and now the Doctor's run off to get himself killed in war, and I have no idea where to find him. I need your help to save the Doctor and that's a damn sight more important than whatever's keeping you entertained, alright?” The words came out in a sharp, angry rush, two months' worth of frustration bubbling over. She'd never been so sharp with Sherlock Holmes before, and she was surprised at her own anger. A few months' travel with the Doctor had clearly given her a bit of backbone.

     There were a few moments of silence on the other line. Molly waited nervously, biting her lip. Part of her regretted her outburst, but the other stood by her words. She had suffered plenty because of Sherlock Holmes, and now he was going to help her whether he liked it or not.

     “ _Tell me everything from the start, don't leave out any details._ ” The detective's dismissive tone had turned sharp with interest. Molly felt a rush of relief. She'd caught his attention.

     Quickly, she explained her situation with John Smith and the Family of Blood. She tried to be both concise and detailed, but Sherlock didn't interrupt her at any point, so she assumed she was explaining herself well enough. “He said he was going to join the 35th PA Infantry. I know you've got government connections. Can you find out where the infantry's going to fight – er, did fight, for you? There's no way I'm going to find that online.”

     “ _Please, if you're going to call me from the past, at least give me a challenge,_ ” the detective snarked, the sound of typing in the background.

     “This isn't about you being entertained, Sherlock,” Molly replied testily, “this is about helping the Doctor.”

     He didn't reply to her curtness, instead drawing into silence as the keys tapped away in the background. After a few moments, he told her, " _All I need is the precise date._ "

     Molly felt a rush of relief. She gave him the date, then waited as keys typed in the background. Finally, Sherlock told her, " _The 35th Infantry will only fight in one more battle, in Richmond, Virginia, from April 2nd to April 4th. It's the battle that wraps up the war, a decisive Union victory that captures the Confederate capitol of Richmond, the war ends five days later. If he's in that Infantry, the Time Lord should be there. Do you want a list of the dead and wounded?_ "

     Molly shook her head quickly. "No, definitely not. Time can be rewritten, but I don't want to take any chances. So, Richmond. That battle's only a few days away. How do I get there?"

     Suddenly, an idea came to her. "Hold on." Not waiting for a response, she set down the phone and headed to one of the hallways. A few paces in she found the closet where she'd stored his jacket and suit after he'd changed into more period-suitable wear. She grabbed the coat, digging through the spacious pockets until she emerged with the two things she needed; the sonic screwdriver, and the psychic paper.

     Items in hand, she hurried back to the phone, cupping it between her cheek and her shoulder. "Sherlock, what can you tell me about female nurses during the Civil War?"

     Sherlock was quick to supply her with the information she needed. There were indeed female nurses during the Civil War, and they didn't have a set uniform. A plain black dress and a white apron would do. All she'd need to do was use the psychic paper to sneak in, find John, and either convince him away from the battle or have him open the watch. Simple.

     After thanking Sherlock for his help, Molly hung up and headed for the TARDIS wardrobe. There was bound to be something in there that would work for her disguise.

     She left the TARDIS after she found what she needed. Molly had everything planned, but she hasn't noticed eyes watching her at the train station. Nor had she noticed the one who had followed her through the woods, the one now staring at the blue box with hungry eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god. I can't with what just happened. It happened two days ago and I'm still freaking excited.
> 
> (I apologize for those who don't care about my petty rambling and are here about the story only. I recommend skipping to the second-to-last paragraph to avoid my rambling.)
> 
> So, I mentioned I was going to Disney World, right? Well, I also went to Harry Potter World for the very first time. It was totally awesome! I saw all the shops in Hogsmeade, tried Butterbeer (didn't particularly like it, but whatever), went on the ride in the castle. It was so surreal. But the best part is the one I'm about to rant about.
> 
> At Ollivanders, for those of you who don't know, they take a group of people inside and select one to be "chosen" by a wand in this really cool display. After that, the rest of the group gets sent inside the actual shop to buy a wand, rather than getting chosen. I go in thinking they're going to pick one of the younger kids in the group, right?
> 
> Nope!
> 
> The guy in the shop, who was a dead-on Ollivander, chose seventeen-year- old me to get chosen by a wand. I got pulled up in front of everyone, tried two wands, one of which started making the drawers rattle, the other which made lightning strike overhead, before getting chosen by an Ivy wand with Dragon Heartstring core. That was probably the coolest thing that's ever happened to me.
> 
> Back to the actual story, this here is the end of Human Nature. The story will pick up in the next episode, The Family of Blood. I'm home from vacation now, so the story can resume its regular updates. (oh hell, who am I kidding, I was writing and updating regularly the whole bloody vacation.)
> 
> I also want to address what is factual in this episode. Allentown, Pennsylvania is a real place, but I made up what it looks like. The battle and capture of Richmond, VA was real, as are all the dates listed here, but the 35th VA Infantry is not (though for all I know, there could have been an infantry with that name.) There were indeed female nurses at the time.


	26. The Family of Blood: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly decides to go after John and stop him from killing - or being killed.

     "Good luck, Molly," Mrs. Sanders told her as the train pulled into the station and slowed to a halt beside them. The barber and his wife had insisted on accompanying Molly to the train station. It was the day after John's departure; she didn't want to waste time actually buying the ticket and getting enrolled as a nurse, so she was going to do everything by psychic paper. Risky, maybe, but time was of the essence.

     It was also risky to allow Mr. and Mrs. Sanders to accompany her to the station, but they'd insisted, and she'd grown fond of them in the last two months. They'd been good to the siblings, Mrs. Sanders in particular. Molly had been glad of her friendship in the lonely months without the Doctor.

     Mr. Sanders, a large, beefy man with a dark, wild beard and a wide grin, pulled her into a huge hug. "Good luck, Ms. Smith," he rumbled.

     "Thanks sir," she said with a grin.

     Mr. Sanders finally released her, allowing the tiny Mrs. Sanders to wrap Molly in her own hug. "Are you sure you're not coming back?" she asked anxiously. "Once the war's over and all?"

     Molly shook her head firmly. "After its over, we're heading back to England. But I'll miss you."

     As the pathologist pulled back, she heard a familiar, unwelcome voice behind her. "Oh, hello there Ms. Smith."

     She bit back a groan as she turned to face the woman. "Mrs. Howard," she greeted stiffly.

     The tall, pinched woman seemed in a huff about something. She drew herself up, glaring imperiously at the pathologist. “I almost can't believe what I've heard. Is it true then? You're running off like some sort of wild thing after your brother?”

     Molly had been patient with Mrs. Howard for well over two months now, but after everything that happened yesterday, she wasn't really in the mood for the unpleasant woman. “Pardon me, ma'am,” she replied testily, “but I don't think it's particularly any of your business.” Mr. and Mrs. Sanders watched the encounter curiously.

     Mrs. Howard flushed, her eyebrows pinching together in a deep scowl. “Do forgive the intrusion. You must understand I am only trying to help. No good comes to girls who go traipsing off where they have no business.”

     The pathologist finally lost her patience. She drew herself up to her full height, squaring her shoulders as she glared at the older woman. Her tone lost the usual politeness and gained its full strength as she snapped, “Mrs. Howard, I wish you could have seen the things I've seen. In time, you might come to learn how wrong you are about people and what matters. I wish you could see the future I have. And one day, you will, if you live long enough. You'll see the day men of every color are given the vote. The day women are given the vote too if you're lucky. But there's so much you'll get to miss. The World Wars, when everyone realizes war's not as grand as they make it out to be. The creation of the atomic bomb. A world where a country can destroy another with the push of a button. The legalization of same-sex marriage. Horrors to you, I'm sure. Maybe it's better you'll never live to see them. You might not be able to handle it, being shown just how wrong you are about the world and what's proper. Because I've seen the future, Mrs. Howard, and in all my travels, I've realized that those petty social niceties don't matter at all. None of it matters. Just a person's basic humanity.”

     Mr. and Mrs. Sanders were looking at her worriedly, but Mrs. Howard gaped at her with shock and disgust, and a little bit of fear. “What on earth are you talking about, child?”

     Molly gave a quick smirk, feeling unusually mischievous. It had finally dawned on her that this two-month loneliness was over, she was going to save the Doctor, and they would be off again, the Doctor and his companion, flying in the TARDIS. Everything would be as it should be. “That's for you to guess, isn't it? Guess for the rest of your life.” With that last sentiment, she turned and started to board the train.

     Only for a deep _whirring_ and a frightened scream behind her to make her pause.

     Molly turned slowly away from the train to look behind her. Four new figures had appeared on the platform, quicker than should have been possible. They were all people Molly recognized, but there was something off about all of them. There was Mr. Coleman, the grocer, a futuristic gun pointed at a baffled Mr. Sanders. Beside him was Lily Rodgers, the one to first see the falling ship, arms wrapped around a terrified Mrs. Sanders with a gun pointed under her chin. There was little Cindy Coonan, the baker's ten-year-old daughter, cheerfully pointing a gun up at an outraged Mrs. Howard.

     Last of them all was Jack Beckett, the teenaged newspaper intern, head cocked, eyes curiously wide, and gun pointed straight at Molly. He had a queer half-smile on his lips. “Companion of the Doctor,” he greeted in an oddly flat tone. It wasn't that his voice was monotone, it was more like his words ran together, lacking in emphasis on the right syllables.

     She stood stock-still, evaluating glance flitting from Jack to the other three. “I don't know who you're talking about,” she said slowly. “I don't know any doctors.”

     Not-Jack didn't seem to need to blink. He simply stared at her wide-eyed, head still cocked slightly to the side, like an animal watching its prey. “Then why did Mother of Mine see you entering his TARDIS in the woods?” Molly continued to stare at him in defiant silence. “No? Then perhaps Sister of Mine can jog your memory?” Little Cindy, Sister of Mine she assumed, raised her gun more firmly against Mrs. Howard's chest. The woman let out an low whimper, eyes trained on the gun.

     “Wait.” Molly couldn't let innocents get hurt. She'd just have to play it carefully, see what they wanted and find a way around it. “Fine. I'm his companion. What do you want?”

     Not-Jack's smile grew. “Excellent. I'd hoped you'd see reason. Now, where is the Doctor?”

     That, at least, was one she could answer safely. “He ran off to fight in the Civil War,” she told them slightly smugly. Now she was slightly glad the Doctor was gone. At least now, he was somewhat safe from the Family of Blood.

     Lily Rodgers, apparently Mother of Mine, took in a sharp breath through the nose, eyes widening. “The Time Lord risks himself in a human war? He's more foolish than I thought.”

     “Unless the human girl lies,” Mr. Coleman growled. Going by the name themes, she was guessing this one was called Father of mine, and the two children were Son of Mine and Daughter of Mine. Father of Mine was staring at Molly with wide, malicious eyes, something like a low growl rumbling from his chest. Molly forced herself to stare at him unflinchingly, remembering the time she'd bargained with a Dalek.

     Son of Mine gave a minute shake of his head. “No, she speaks the truth. So, the Time Lord leaves to fight a humans' war. Where?”

     Molly shrugged coolly. “I don't know.”

     Mother of Mine shook her head with a sharp flick. “She lies!”

     Son of Mine's eyes narrowed threateningly, still managing to remain eerily wide. “I see.” He took a few stiff steps forward, gun focused steadily on her chest. “If you don't know where the Doctor is, then why are you boarding a train?” The words had gained speed, his voice rising in angry intensity. “Tell us where the Doctor is!”

     The pathologist noticed uneasily that Mother of Mine had tightened her grip on Mrs. Smith, who gave a terrified whimper in response, wide eyes looking pleadingly at Molly. “Alright, alright,” she said quickly. “I really don't know where he is.” They glared at her disbelievingly, so she insisted, “I don't! But I do know his infantry number, so I was going to search around and try to figure out where he was. He mentioned an old friend who fought in the war. I think he'll know where the Doctor is.”

     The Family all looked at her with varying levels of suspicion. Finally, Son of Mine gave a small, jerky nod. “Very well. We will find this friend and find the Doctor. The humans are of no more use.”

     “Wait!” Molly protested quickly. “His friend won't talk to you. He doesn't know you. But we've met before. He'll only talk if I'm there. Alive.” Her gaze flicked quickly to three human hostages as she added, “And I'm only coming quietly if you let them go.”

     Father of Mine let out a sharp noise like a hiss, but Son of Mine just blinked thoughtfully at her. After a few moments, he gave a jerky little nod. “Alright. The humans will be released, and you will lead us to the Time Lord.” Reluctantly, the rest of the Family released their holds on the humans. Mr. Sanders pulled his wife quickly into an embrace, the large man shielding his tiny wife from the aliens, but Mrs. Howard just blinked in confusion, eyes still wide with fear. She seemed frozen in fear.

     Molly turned to Mr. and Mrs. Sanders, who were looking at her with a mix of concern and fear. “Take Mrs. Howard and go,” she ordered briskly. At Mrs. Sanders' hesitation, she added more softly, “I'll be fine, just go. I can take care of myself.”

     With a last, worried look, the couple began herding Mrs. Howard away. The older woman finally woke from her stupor long enough to throw Molly a fearful glance. “Who are you?” she breathed.

     Molly gave her a quick, reassuring smile. “Just a traveler,” she said simply. Mrs. Howard stared at her wide-eyed for a few moments, then allowed Mr. and Mrs. Sanders to shepherd her off the platform. Molly's gaze followed them until they were out of sight, then she let out the breath she'd been holding. They, at least, were safe. Now she could focus on herself and the Doctor.

     She turned back to the Family, forcing her voice to remain even as she said, “Alright. Let's get going.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     They boarded the train and settled quietly into their seats. The train was supposed to make several stops along the way; Molly was planning on getting off on one of them, losing the Family somehow, then finding another ride to Richmond. But how she was to get rid of the Family, she had no idea.

     Her strange entourage all still had their guns, and there were four of them versus one of her. Molly had gotten stronger and quicker in her months of travel with the Doctor. Unless the Family had some sort of inhuman strength, she was certain she could overpower Daughter of Mine, and maybe Son of Mine or Mother of Mine if it came down to it, but Father of Mine was probably too strong, and there was no way she'd be able to take down all four of them at once.

     When questioned about where the friend of the Doctor was, she picked a city at random – Petersburg, VA. She remembered when researching the Civil War after arriving, she'd read about a battle of Ford Stedman on March 25. That might be as good a place as any to try and ditch the Family. Maybe they'd try to search for the Doctor among the soldiers there. The more honest part of her mind knew she was hoping they'd get picked off in the battle. She hated herself for that plan, but she didn't know what else to do, and the original plan had been to wait them out until they died anyway. They were nearly at the ends of their lives as it was.

     The trip was going to be several hours long, so Molly decided to use the time to sit back and observe her captors. From the little show-down earlier, she guessed that Son of Mine was the ringleader. He seemed to be in charge of taking Molly prisoner, and he seemed to be the most intelligent. He was probably the one to look out for the most.

     The Family seemed to rely heavily on sense of smell, if their constant sniffing was anything to go by. She wasn't sure if the widened eyes meant they had better or worse vision than a human's, but she was hoping for worse. Molly remembered the Doctor telling her that the Family could track people anywhere through the universe by smell. If she was going to run from them, she'd have to find a way to mask her scent. Somehow.

     After two hours, Molly felt her legs beginning to get stiff, and she was beginning to feel antsy. Maybe she was wrong about the date of the battle, or the location, or maybe she wouldn't be able to shake them off after all. She had to have another plan. But what?

     After a few minutes of mulling over ideas, she finally settled with the usual Doctor mindset – do something stupid and cliché and just make it up from there. “Er, I have to go to the bathroom,” she lied. Well, if she was going cliché, might as well go with the biggest one of them all.

     The Family members blinked at her, the same eerie smiles on their faces. She stared right back, forcing herself not to flinch away. She couldn't let this charade fail.

     Finally, Son of Mine gave a slight incline of his head. “Mother of Mine will accompany you.” The woman stood, head cocked curiously to the side as she stared at Molly. The pathologist nodded her acceptance, then allowed herself to be led down the aisle by Mother of Mine.

     They made their way through the passenger car, heading for the door to the next car. There was a gap between the cars connected by a metal coupling. It was wide enough for one person to cross at a time. This could be her chance to get away.

     As they stepped outside onto a narrow ledge, out of the view of the rest of the Family, Molly finally made her move. Molly brought her shoulder up sharply, hearing a satisfying _thud_ as it connected with the alien's chin. She swiftly brought her elbow back into Mother of Mine's gut, then bolted as the alien was knocked back against the wall.

     Molly started to hurry across the coupling, slowing slightly as she stepped onto the unstable clasp. Mother of Mine was quick to recover. She lunged across the metal, grabbing at Molly's leg. The pathologist yanked her leg free, and Mother of Mine was thrown off balance. She watched with horror as the alien waved her arms wildly, trying to regain her balance, only to fall of the side. There was a horrifying _thud_ as she fell onto the rails and was drawn under the wheels. The pathologist looked away quickly, but she could still just hear the sickening _crunch_ as the alien was run over.

     She closed her eyes, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. The pathologist had seen some horrible things in her travels, and she'd helped kill before, with the Slab, and she'd stood by while their enemies died before. But this felt different. She alone, not the Doctor, was responsible for this death. But she didn't have time to agonize over, not now at least. She had to keep moving.

     Molly hurried into the next car, shuffling quickly through the aisle. She wasn't sure exactly what her plan was, but she knew she either had to get off the train now or hide somewhere on-board until the train stopped. The train was going rather fast, making the getting off option less desirable, so she'd just keep going until she found somewhere suitable to hide.

     The next few cars were passenger cars, but towards the back she found a car with no door, just a ladder leading to the top. She clambered up as quickly as she could, increasingly worried about being followed by the Family. When she reached the top, she found herself overlooking a hollow car carrying a huge pile of coal.

     Molly stared down at the pile, mind racing. “Oh, no way this is going to work,” she breathed. But what other choice did she have?

     She stepped cautiously out onto the pile. It seemed steady enough under her feet, not caving in under her, so she proceeded more confidently until she reached the far end. Then she began digging. Pushing aside coal until there was a sizable dent for her to burrow into. She hurriedly scraped some coal back over herself, hoping that the smell of coal would effectively cover up her human scent. It was hard to breath once she was completely covered, but she wasn't suffocating, so she stayed where she was.

     She would stay where she was as long as she had to.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Hours passed without the Family finding her. She allowed the train to stop two times without trying to get off, hoping the Family had gotten off already, then finally made her move on the third stop. Molly hurriedly pushed the coal off of her, gulping in the first fresh air she'd gotten in hours. She was sent into a long coughing fit as she tried to expel the coal dust from her lungs.

     After she recovered enough to stand, she hurried quickly down the ladder and jumped off the ledge onto the rail beneath. They were at a station of some sort, but the coal car was far back enough that it was away from the station, facing a forest of pines. She scrambled quickly away from the rails and towards the trees, stumbling on legs that had been perfectly still for hours.

     Molly hid behind the trees, watching the station, but she didn't see the Family anywhere. That didn't mean they weren't there, but she wasn't going to do anyone any good hiding in the trees. She would hide in the woods overnight, then head into town and find transport into Richmond. There were only a few days left before the battle. Days left to stop John from killing or being killed.

     She just hoped she wouldn't be too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I tried to make this chapter plausible and interesting, but it ended up being a lot of guesswork, cliche, and just... blah. I mean, I like parts of it, but the end with the train just feels rushed to me. You have no idea how hard it is to find information about trains during the Civil War. At least on Google. Oh well, I'll try to make up for it next chapter.
> 
> Also, you might *actually* have to wait for the upcoming chapters this time. Now that I'm back from vacation, I have a week's worth of schoolwork to catch up on, a Computer Science project to finish in five days, APs to study for, Finals to study for, and a whole bunch of Senior crap that I don't care about. But I digress. Point is, the next three weeks might be a little scarce in updates. After that, I should be home free.


	27. The Family of Blood: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly tries to figure out how to escape from the Family of Blood

     Molly waited in the woods overnight, as she’d planned, staying awake the whole time, too uncomfortable and alert to sleep properly. There was no sign of the Family the entire night, so by morning she felt relaxed enough to head towards the station and the town beyond. It seemed to be mostly farmland, which was a relief.

     With the little money she had one her, she seeked out one of the farmers and asked to rent of his horses, with the promise of returning it later. He seemed baffled at the request. She explained that she was a war nurse who’d been separated from the rest of her group, and she needed transport to the battlefield. He still seemed skeptical, probably because she was a woman, but in the end he agreed. They haggled over price for a bit, and she ended up giving him all the money she had left. Let him have it, then. It wasn’t like she was going to need it after the battle was over.

     The horse was a stocky working horse, a huge black gelding named Joey, huger than anything she’d ridden before. She’d ridden for a few years in her childhood before deciding figure skating was more important to her, and she’d ridden a few times in her travels with the Doctor. However, she hadn’t ridden properly in a long time, and the horse was intimidating in its size, so she stuck at a walk and a trot for a while before becoming comfortable enough to push the horse faster.

     It took a few days to reach Richmond, and by the time she got there, there was only a day left before the battle. She rode the horse right into the Union camp, flashing the psychic paper when needed, inquiring after John. After a few false turns, she was finally pointed in the right direction.

     Molly rode straight for where was indicated. “John! John Smith!” she called out desperately. She had only one day left to stop John, and she needed to find him before it was too late.

     A familiar voice sounded ahead of her. “Molly?!” One of the soldiers turned around, causing her to draw in a sharp breath as she recognized her “brother” staring at her in shock.

     A relieved laugh escaped her. “John!” She jumped quickly down from the horse – a quiet-tempered animal that stayed exactly where Molly had left it – and ran right into John’s arms, letting herself be hugged tightly by the friend she’d nearly lost. Her job wasn’t over yet, but all she could feel was an overwhelming relief. She had found him, and she hadn’t failed him yet. Everything was going to be okay.

     After a few moments, John pulled back sharply. His brow furrowed as he demanded, “Wait, hang on, how are you here?” The joy to see her was fading, slowly being replaced by anger and worry.

     Molly straightened. “I signed on as a nurse,” she lied. “Listen, John, I’ve got to talk to you.”

     The Time Lord turned human shook his head incredulously, growing angry. “I can’t believe it. You followed me all the way out here to stop me from fighting. Molly, I knew you were stubborn, but this is insane. You shouldn’t be here!”

     “Neither should you!” Molly snapped. She couldn’t afford to be gentle now, she had to stop him, whatever it took. “John, you have to listen to me. Your dreams, those dreams you told me about, they’re real, they’re all real!”

     He was distracted from his anger long enough to look completely baffled. “What?”

     She turned to her satchel, still on her shoulder, and pulled out his notebook of dreams.“Your dreams, John. The ones where you’re the Doctor. They’re not dreams, they’re memories, memories of your real life. You _are_ the Doctor.”

     John shook his head quickly. “That’s not possible,” he said sharply. “I’m not a kid, Molly. Stop making up these wild stories. It’s not going to keep me from fighting. Now you need to go home where you belong, before something happens to you.” He turned and started to storm off.

     Molly hurried to keep pace with him. “The blue box. Remember, John, the blue box in your dreams? I asked you if it had a name and you couldn’t remember. It does have a name. The TARDIS.” The man halted, stiffening at the word. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? You’ve heard it before, you’ve just forgotten. Remember the TARDIS, John. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. Your oldest friend.”

     He shook his head stubbornly. “Impossible.”

     “Then what about her?” She pulled his dream journal out of her satchel and flipped quickly through until she reached the page with Rose’s face, then held it up for John to see. He froze, deep sadness flashing in his eyes for a moment. “Do you remember her, John? Her name is Rose Tyler. You met her in the basement of a clothing store. You blew up her job and offered to show her the stars, then you traveled with her for two years before you lost her forever. I know you can remember her. And the Time War, remember the Time War. You told me about it. When the Time Lords and the Daleks fought, and in the end you were the only survivor. You’ve fought wars before, John, and you already know what good comes of them. You have to remember!”

     John reached with trembling hands for the notebook, horrified gaze fixed on Rose’s face. “Impossible,” he repeated softly, but he seemed far less convinced now.

     Molly put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look into her eyes. “It’s not impossible, John. You are the Doctor. It’s who you always were. You changed into a human to be safe, you gave yourself fake memories and let yourself believe you were totally human. We were hiding, and you told me to look after you. But it’s time to change back. You can be the Doctor again, John.”

     “Then my life…you’re saying my life is a lie?” he breathed. “Our life?”

     Molly felt a pang of guilt. He looked so scared, almost trembling as he looked at the notebook. “Only some of it,” she assured him. “We really are friends, Doctor. I’m your companion, I have been for months, and you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. You have no idea the amazing, fantastic things you’ve done. You’ve saved whole planets, universes even. You’re like the wise old wizard in fairy tales. And you can be that again, John.” She deposited the journal back in the satchel and pulled out the watch. It felt even warmer in her hands now, as though it sensed its true owner was near. “All you have to do is open this watch.”

     John’s gaze zeroed in on the watch, something ancient flickering in his eyes as he looked at it. He reached slowly for the fob watch, fingers closing briefly around it, before he jerked back violently, dropping the watch as though it had burned him. Anger and hurt flashed in his eyes. “That’s enough nonsense, Molly! I don’t have time for stories like that. I have a war to fight, and you need to get home. I don’t want to see you here again, little sister.” With that, he turned and stormed off, looking eerily like a soldier in the blue Union uniform.

     Molly tried to follow, but this time John was too quick, and some of the other nurses finally caught up to her and starting questioning her about why she wasn’t working. She allowed herself to be herded back to the nurses’ tent for the time being, but she knew she still had to do something about John.

**SCENEBREAK**

     She worked the rest of the day with the other nurses, using her medical knowledge to help the wounded and her knack for spotting death to separate out the deceased. Late that night, she ventured out to try to speak to John again, but as she started to sneak past one of the tents, she saw something that made her freeze in horror.

     Two familiar forms were sitting around with the other soldiers. The older one’s face was partially obscured, but she had a perfect view of Son of Mine in a Union uniform, wide-eyed gaze flitting around the tent.

     The pathologist jerked back away from the tent, out of the view of those inside. She forced herself to hold her breath, hoping beyond hope that the smell of horse and the blood of the soldiers she’d helped heal would cover her scent.

     So the Family had followed her here – or at least, Son of Mine and Father of Mine had. She hadn’t seen anyone inside small enough to be Daughter of Mine, so maybe the youngest Family member was hiding out elsewhere until they found the Doctor. How had they caught up so quickly? And how was she going to protect the Doctor from them if she opened the watch now?

     Molly scurried quickly back to the nurses’ tent, mind racing as she went over her options. She couldn’t open the watch now, not with the Family so close. She’d somehow have to convince John, and John alone, not to fight. There could be no involvement from the Doctor, it was too dangerous. They’d just have to wait out the few days left in the Family’s lifespan, then the Doctor could return. Meantime, it was all up to John.

**SCENEBREAK**

     She slept fitfully that night, plagued by dreams of the Doctor and his life, even parts of it she’d never lived herself. She didn’t know whether they were real or not, but she knew that if she didn’t do something now, that man would be lost forever.

     The sound of gunfire brought her out of her thoughts. Gunshots echoed loudly in the distance. She felt a cold shiver of dread. _The battle’s begun._

     Molly scrambled out of the tent, hurrying towards the nurses’ tent. Nurses weren’t allowed on the battlefield, at least not during the battle, so she’d have to improvise. “Again with the clichés,” she muttered she rifled through the storage room in the back, where they kept the uniforms of dead or wounded soldiers. She tried not to think about that too hard as she swapped her nurse outfit for a slightly loose-fitting Union uniform. Ultimately she decided against grabbing a rifle, not having any intention of killing, but the sword might come in handy, so she strapped it to her belt.

     The gunfire only got louder as she headed into the battle. Men fought all around her, firing from afar with their rifles or stabbing wildly with swords. Cries of pain and the stench of death hung in the air, along with a heavy cloud of gunpowder. She remembered from her readings that most soldiers in the Civil War received no training before being shoved into their first battle. She thought grimly that she could believe it as she watched a particularly terrified group of soldiers clumsily attacking men in Confederate gray. The flying bullets and stench of death had her heart racing, but she forced herself to keep going, shouting her “brother’s” name into the battle.

     She had been carrying the fob watch in her hand the whole time, the chain wrapped firmly around her arm so she couldn’t drop it. Suddenly, it began to grow warmer in her hand, becoming almost scorching hot. Molly knew without being told that it meant John was nearby. She looked around wildly for a while before finally spotting a familiar, tall form outlined against the sky. Relief washed over her when she realized he looked fine, only to be replaced by horror as she noticed he had his rifle raised, pointed at a Confederate soldier.

     “No! John!” Molly hurtled towards the man, dodging fighting soldiers, desperate to reach John before it was too late. The Doctor’s instructions rang in her ears as she ran. _Don’t let me hurt anyone. We can’t have that, but you know what humans are like._ She wouldn’t let him kill. Not if she could still stop him.

     He still had his rifle raised when she reached him, but she lunged toward it, forcing the muzzle to point into the dirt. A gunshot cracked in the air, and she could feel the shudder of it run through the rifle. She froze, stunned at how close she’d come to getting shot. The Confederate soldier, unbelievably young now that she was close enough to tell, stared at her in shock.

     John looked down at her in shock and horror. “Molly?” The pathologist could feel him trembling from her grip on the rifle. His horrified gaze flicked to the Confederate soldier, uncertainty and anger flashing in his dark eyes.

     Molly turned to the soldier. “Get out of here,” she ordered sharply. When he just stared at her dumbly, she repeated more loudly, “Now!” That startled him into action. He scrambled to his feet and skittered off, glancing back in total confusion at the enemy soldier with the woman’s voice who’d saved him.

     John yanked his rifle out of her grasp. “You let him go!” he growled, though he seemed just as stunned at what happened as the soldier he’d nearly killed.

     She had no time to play nice now. He had to face the facts. Molly grabbed him by the collar, ignoring his protests, and forced him to look at the retreating soldier. “That was a kid, John. A kid. He couldn’t have been older than seventeen. And you nearly killed him.”

     The man looked shaken, gaze flitting wildly from the gun to the solider, then back to Molly. “He’s an enemy soldier. He was attacking my country. I was just defending my beliefs,” he defended himself dully. The horror seemed to be truly setting in now; his hands shook wildly as he seemed to realize how truly close to murder he’d come. “Isn’t that the right of every man?”

     Molly shook her head sadly. “War never solves anything, John,” she told him gently. “It just kills. You taught me that, as the Doctor. “People who fight wars are just too scared to find another option. It’s the easier option, the instinctual one, but it’s not right, and it’s not just. There’s always another way, and if there isn’t, that doesn’t make it grand or a privilege, just a tragedy. It’s up to people like us to find that other way.”

     “Us,” he repeated softly. “You mean you and the Doctor.” There was a certain bitterness in his tone, and fear. She wondered how much he believed her now, and how she was ever going to convince him to change back if he was so terrified of becoming the Doctor.

     “You _are_ the Doctor, John,” she told him gently. “You’re the same man, just with different memories.”

     John didn’t respond to that. Instead, he stared at her, trembling all over. Her mind flashed briefly back to that horrible day when he’d been possessed by the sun. That was the only other time that she’d seen the Time Lord so vulnerable, so terrified. She pulled him into a tight hug, trying to steady the trembling, sobbing man, remembering when he’d done the same for her after the pool. “It’s alright, John,” she said soothingly.

     “It’s over.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     They were able to sneak back to the camp after the battle without any injury or suspicion from the other soldiers. The last thing Molly needed was for her to have saved him only for him to get shot for deserting. The battle was over in a few days, with the retreating Confederate soldiers setting fire to most of the city, leaving the Union without much to salvage from their victory. But it was still a victory. The last great battle of the Civil War had been won, with the Confederate capitol finally captured. The war was, for all intents and purposes, over. General Lee would surrender in a few days’ time, and the Confederacy would be rejoined with the rest of the states. The United States of America would be whole again.

     The last day of the battle, Molly was helping bury some of the dead when she found two familiar faces on the pile. Son of Mine and Father of Mine both died with the wide-eyed expressions twisted into looks of shock and terror. She wasn’t sure what to feel when she saw them. Relief, of course, and a slight twinge of guilt, but mostly she felt a deep tiredness. War destroyed so much. These two aliens, these great threats, had been mowed down without a second thought. Their enemies, gone, just like that.

     There was still no sign of Daughter of Mine; Molly guessed that when Son of Mine and Father of Mine hadn’t returned, she’d taken off. There was no way for a child to sneak onto the battlefield, and it had been Son of Mine who seemed to be the planner among them. She only had days left, anyway. Molly wasn’t too worried about her.

     It was John she was worried about. After the battle, he’d avoided her completely, instead helping out with burying bodies or putting out fires in the city. She knew they’d have to talk about the watch eventually, but for now, she let him keep his silence. He’d gone through enough because of the war. She wasn’t going to force him to essentially erase himself – or at least that’s how he’d see it – until he was ready.

     She didn’t know what she would do if he refused to ever open it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again with the apology. I feel like my end for the Family is kind of lackluster, but that was also kind of the point. The destruction of war and all that. And they never said that they weren't as vulnerable as the human bodies they wore. They seemed pretty worried about their ship exploding in the actual episode, and this time they didn't have their little straw buddies to help them like in the episode, 'cause they hadn't found the Doctor yet and hadn't thought to summon them.
> 
> I've got one more chapter of this, then on to an interlude and another episode. I'll talk about that more after the next chapter. ;) Just expect more non-canon-ness ahead.


	28. The Family of Blood: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly tries to convince John to regain his memories.

     The last day of the battle, Molly came across John alone in the soldier's tent. He sat mutely on one of the cots, staring blankly ahead, dull terror in his eyes.

     She paused, not sure whether to approach or not. “John?” she asked uncertainly.

     He didn't look at her as he asked softly, “I'm not your brother, am I?”

     The companion blinked in surprise at the question. He sighed, total resignation in the slump of his shoulders. “That watch, when I touched it... I could _hear_ him. The Doctor. I could feel him there, in my head. I didn't want to admit it, but I felt him. Everything I know is a lie. I'm a lie, to you. I'm not your brother.”

     Molly felt a rush of sympathy for the miserable man. She slowly approached him, sitting on the cot across from him. Grabbing both of his hands, she told him gently, “I'm not your sister, no. But I am your friend. That's real, John. You and me, that's real. And... I like thinking of you as a brother,” she admitted. She wondered how the Doctor would view that statement when he regained his memory. “That wasn't fake. That was you, John. That's just how you are.”

     He gave a small smile at this, but didn't seem entirely comforted. Quietly, in a lightly trembling tone, he admitted, “When he was there, I felt memories. _Horrible_ memories. Pain and guilt, and loss, a great, deep loss.” His fearful voice pleaded for an explanation, for some way to understand the horror he'd witnessed.

     Molly felt a rush of guilt. “The Time War,” she realized aloud. “You must be remembering the Time War.” She wondered guiltily for a minute if it was really right of her to ask him to return to the old pain of that life. Was the Doctor's suffering worth remembering?

     John looked at her warily. “You mentioned the Time War before,” he remembered. “What is it?”

     Molly hesitated, but it was his life. He had a right to know. Softly, she began the same explanation the man had once given her. “The Time War was the last great war between your species, the Time Lords, and a race called the Daleks.” As delicately as she could, she explained the war, and his part in it.

     John's eyes widened in horror as she finished her tale. “I... I killed _all_ of them?”

     Molly hated how horrified he looked, the horrible, familiar look of self-loathing creeping back into his expression. “To save the universe,” she reminded him firmly. “You saved everybody, John, you've saved them so many times.”

     John just shook his head, horror evident in every line in his face. “An entire race...” He looked up at Molly, a wild light in his eyes. “How does he stand it?” he demanded. “That guilt. How doesn't he die of it?”

     Molly smiled slightly as she remembered all of the Doctor's happiest moments, all the times he'd had that happy, goofy grin on his face. “Friends,” she answered simply. “New places. You wouldn't believe some of the beautiful places we've visited together. You seem to find joy in the simplest of things. But mostly from the people we meet, and all the little reminders of the general goodness of people. I know that might seem empty, but it's true. At times it seems like the goodness of humanity, all the little things people do to prove it, are what keep him going.”

     Hope lit up in his eyes for a minute, only to be replaced by the same fear. Molly thought she knew where it came from. Gently, she grasped both his hands, forcing him to look into her eyes. “John, I know you think that becoming the Doctor means being erased, but it's not. You _are_ the Doctor, the same man with different memories. I know him, and I know you, and I can promise you you're the exact same person. Opening that watch'll just be like getting your memories back. You won't be erased, you'll just remember who you are.”

     John looked like he wanted to believe in, but in the end he shook his head. “I don't think I can do it, Molly. I can't live with that much pain. I don't want to remember, not if that's the cost. We've got a good life, don't we Molly? Can't we just go back to that?”

     Molly hesitated. On the one hand, she really, _really_ didn't want to live in the misogynistic technologically-challenged Victorian America for the rest of her life. On the other, she'd never force John to return to those memories. “If you want,” she finally said softly.

     This assurance didn't seem to help John at all. He just looked more confused and conflicted than ever.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The next day, on May 4th, 1865, John and Molly headed out into the ruined city of Richmond, scorched and wrecked by the devastating Confederate fires. They were going to wait out the few days left in the war, then head home. After that, Molly had no idea.

     As they strolled among the ruins, Molly was the first to see the tall figure in the distance. She peered through the morning fog, trying to get a closer look, only to freeze in surprise as the man grew closer. “No way,” she breathed.

     John had seen him too. His eyes widened as he recognized the figure. “Is that...?”

     “Yeah. I think it is.”

     As the figure came up to them, Molly marveled at how much he looked like his portraits. The same old, wizened face, the slightly knowing the smile, the kindly crinkled eyes. He was tall, too, taller than even John.

     Molly drew herself into the curtsey she'd become familiar with in the Victorian era, for the first time feeling it completely deserved. “Mr. President,” she greeted.

     American President Abraham Lincoln looked surprised for a moment, but then his expression softened into a smile. “Well now. I come to Richmond looking to view a captured city, and instead I have the pleasure of meeting a very old friend.” He reached out a hand towards John, who shook it bemusedly. “It's been a long time, Doctor.”

     Molly and John shared a surprised glance. “You know the Doctor?” she asked.

     Lincoln nodded, chuckling. “He paid a rather unorthodox visit to Washington at the beginning of my political career. Since then, he seems to enjoy popping up every so often between decades, always looking the same while I grow ever more old and wrinkled. It's been a time since I saw him, beginning of my first term I believe.” His amused gaze grew thoughtful as he looked at John. “However, it would seem that he, for once, is the one who doesn't know me. Is this another one of the side effects of your ingenious time travel?”

     Molly was surprised at how much the president knew about the Doctor's true identity, but she figured it meant she could trust him. She quickly explained John's situation, and her part in it. President Lincoln looked at her with respect, giving a slight incline of his head. "Well, that's a pretty mess you've landed yourself in there. Might I say, ma'am, you're very brave to have taken the task you did."

     Molly was a little taken aback by the compliment, but she accepted it with a curtsey and a simple, "Thank you, Mr. President."

     Lincoln then turned back to John, who had slipped back into that blank look of fear. His voice became soft as he asked, “Are you planning on getting your memories back?”

     John looked uncertain. “I... I don't know.” He looked imploringly at the president, admiration clear in his expression, and desperation. “What sort of man did the Doctor seem like to you? How could... how could a man who's done what he has ever be a good man?”

     The president smile became one of understanding. He leaned back thoughtfully, somehow seeming even taller. Finally, he began casually, “I remember the first time I met you. I was a young man then, and foolish. I didn't know the ways of the world. I remember when you told me you were hundreds and hundreds of years old, I just couldn't believe it. You looked young, you see, but more than that, you acted young, sometimes playful way below your years. Old men always seemed solemn as the hills to me. I asked how it could possibly be that you were as old as you say and seem as young as you did.”

     John seemed to be hanging on Lincoln's words. “And? What did I say?”

     Lincoln smiled fondly. “Oh, you said something witty and meaningless, as usual. But I figured it out myself. It was hope, Mr. Smith. Hope for goodness to prevail, hope for a better world, hope for all the wonders in the world. Through hope you found your joy. I've never seen eyes as old as yours before, but I've also never seen a man with so much hope and faith before. Now I'm an old man too. Now I feel weariness and pain. And I do believe I would do a lot for the hope I've seen in your eyes.”

     John looked down at the ground, a thousand different emotions flitting across his face. Lincoln seemed to take this as his cue to leave. “I can't tell you what to do, Doctor. I can only tell you what I think.” He dipped his head one more time to both of them. “Molly Hooper, you're always welcome in Washington, if the occasion ever arises.” After a flustered Molly thanked him, he took his leave, heading off into the ruins of the city.

     They stood there in silence for a long time. Molly wasn't sure what John was thinking, but she had a feeling Lincoln's words had had an impact on him. Her heart ached for him and the agonizing choice he was facing, but nothing she could say would make it any better.

     Finally, he silently held out a hand, palm up. Molly understood without being asked. Without a word she handed him the fob watch. The human John Smith gave his little sister one last, desperate look, then headed off into the ruins. Molly understood immediately that she wasn't to follow him. John wanted to be alone when the memories came, when he was forced to recover who he was.

     After what she was asking him to do, she owed him at least that.

**SCENEBREAK**

     After several minutes, the man who looked like John approached Molly, but there was a familiar, old look in his eyes. She smiled, both sad and relieved that her friend had remembered who he was. “Doctor,” she greeted.

     The Time Lord gave her the familiar grin, but there was more sadness in it now. “Hello Molly,” he said with a warm smile.

     They stared at each other for a few moments, then the Doctor came to pull Molly into a tight hug, which she returned eagerly. He'd been there the whole time, true, but it still felt good to have the whole and complete Doctor back.

     As he pulled back, Molly couldn't help but grin at her friend. “Back to the TARDIS then?”

     “Same old life,” the Doctor agreed cheerfully.

     “Good. I never want to wear a dress again.” She and the Doctor linked arms, then started off through the ruins, back towards the camp where the horse they had to return waited. “You have no idea how many 21st century perks I've missed.”

     The Doctor chucked. “Still, you did pretty well for yourself, looking out for clueless old me.” He sobered slightly, the old sadness flashing in his eyes again. “Thanks. For stopping me, and knowing it was me. You were right, it was just remembering, not changing.”

     She was glad to hear she'd been right, but there was still something far too sad about the Time Lord. “It wasn't your fault,” she told him firmly. “You didn't know. About war, I mean. You couldn't remember.”

     The Doctor shot her a slight, grateful smile, but didn't reply. Molly waited a few minutes, then decided to break the silence. “So, you've met Abraham Lincoln then?”

     He chuckled. “Yeah, been a bit though.” The Time Lord's expression turned sad as he contemplated the president. “May 4th today. In five days, the south will surrender, and the war will be over. And five days after that, Lincoln will be shot and killed at the threatre by John Wilkes Booth.”

     Molly blinked in shock. “He's going to die in ten days?” She felt a pang of grief for the great man. “I knew he was assassinated, but I didn't realize it was so soon after the war. Why was he killed?”

     “Because Booth was a Confederate supporter, and a supporter of slavery. The war was over, but he still wanted things to go back to the way they were.”

     The pathologist sighed sadly. “There's always going to be people like that, isn't there?”

     The Doctor shrugged. “Well, yeah, but there's also always going to be men like Lincoln. People willing to give up their last breath to make the world better. The human race is an amazing thing.” He shot Molly a grateful glance that clearly said, _Thanks for reminding me._

     She smiled back. Arm in arm, the two friends started off, reunited once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for you today. A short one, mind, but I'll make up for it later with an extra-long interlude.
> 
> As promised, I'll discuss the interlude. It'll cover parts of Scandal of Bohemia, the few that Molly is in. After that, I'm not telling, but I will say that I'm not doing Blink, since it's from Sally's POV anyway.
> 
> EDIT: Again, I want to address what's factual here. I did not make up Lincoln's appearance at Richmond. He came to tour the captured Capitol a day after the battle, greeting many of the freed slaves who'd fought in the battle. I didn't have them in here only because I didn't need people hearing the odd conversation between Lincoln and the Doctor.
> 
> As for *why* I chose a battle that included Lincoln... well actually, that's why I did the whole Civil War thing in the first place. I'd recently seen the movie Lincoln when I came up with the idea, so I really wanted to try writing that character. I'm pretty happy with how he came out.


	29. Interlude Four: A Christmas Scandal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly receives an invitation to a Christmas party.

     The Doctor got a bad feeling the moment Molly got that Christmas party invitation.

     The invitation came from a call from 21st century London. They were in the console room when the call came. Molly picked up her cell phone, expression becoming surprised when she heard the voice on the other line. “Oh, John, hi.” The Doctor was surprised to hear the name of Sherlock's flatmate.

     Molly listened a bit, then blushed slightly. “Oh, really? Er, yeah, sounds fun.” A few moments, then she rolled her eyes. “John, it's a time machine, I could be there in two minutes if I wanted.” A pause, then she added, “Alright, see you then,” then hung up. The Doctor tried not to look like he'd been listening, but he knew she'd see through that. Eavesdropping and popping into conversations that didn't concern him were two well-known quirks of the Time Lord.

     The pathologist looked down awkwardly at the phone for a moment, then glanced up at the Doctor. “Er, we just got invited to a Christmas party at Sherlock and John's flat.”

     The words raised a red flag for the Doctor, but he tried not to show it. “Christmas, huh? Is it that time already?”

     Molly rolled her eyes. “It's a time machine, Doctor. We're in the Time Vortex. It's not any time.”

     The Time Lord cracked a grin. “That's more like it,” he said approvingly.

     The pathologist gave a hopeful smile. “So, do you want to go? It could be fun.”

     The Doctor hesitated. The red flag was waving more insistently now, and he knew why. “Really? With Sherlock? Are you sure?” Molly had been gaining much more confidence lately, but Sherlock seemed to have an innate ability to make her feel unimportant. Sherlock had redeemed himself somewhat in the Time Lord's eyes, but he still had an issue with his treatment of Molly. He didn't see the point of going through that again, but of course he wouldn't say that to Molly. It was her choice.

     Molly hesitated for a few moments, then nodded firmly. “Yeah. We haven't seen them in months. Besides, Mrs. Hudson and DI Lestrade will be there.” She grinned cheerfully, though something still seemed uncertain about it. “I'm going, are you? I know you're not really one for friendly parties and such.”

     He still wasn't sure about how this meeting with Sherlock would go, but he wasn't about to leave Molly on her own with him. “Yeah, sure, why not?” he said cheerfully. “I've always loved Christmas.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     Molly searched a bit for suitable gifts for the guests. The Doctor noticed with unease how particular she was about Sherlock's gift, and how she deliberated over an outfit before picking a rather low-cut black dress. Still, she seemed confident about seeing Sherlock and John again, so a few days after getting the call, they sent the TARDIS outside 221B on Christmas Eve, 2012. As they stepped outside, Molly let out a slight squeak of surprise as a snowflake landed right on her nose. The white flakes were falling softly through the night sky, the gentle white cloaking the ground. The Doctor grinned at the sight of it. “Ah, snow. Real, proper snow. It's been a long time, I have to say.”

     The Time Lord was dressed in his tux and black bow-tie, which usually ended up meaning some sort of wacky danger would spoil the evening, but he rather hoped tonight would be the exception. He'd really rather not combine Sherlock Holmes and aliens. He had a feeling the result would not be pretty.

     They made their way into the building, climbing up until they reached flat 221B. The note on the door below had said to just come in, so they opened the door and entered the flat without bothering to knock.

     An older woman and a younger one the Doctor didn't know were seated on the coach, while John and another man were standing. Sherlock was seated by his laptop, not bothering to look up as they entered. That was fine as far as the Time Lord was concerned. As long as he kept his comments civil, he could spend the whole night glued to the thing as far as he cared.

     “Hello everyone,” Molly greeted cheerfully. She and her chauffeur each carried a bag filled with presents, which they quickly set down. Neither had worn a coat, since the walk from the TARDIS to the flat was so short, so the two men in the room both got slightly wide-eyed at Molly's dress.

     Every greeted her cheerfully enough, except for Sherlock, who just rolled his eyes and muttered, “Oh, everybody’s saying hello to each other, how wonderful.” The Time Lord shot him a quick, sharp glance, but the detective said nothing further.

     “Sorry if we're late,” Molly apologized quickly. “We got a bit caught up in traffic.” She gave the Time Lord a quick side glance. He smirked at the veiled insult to his driving.

     “Not at all,” John assured her with a smile. He brought over chairs for her and the Doctor, but Sherlock soon called him over to look at something on his laptop. The other man approached Molly quickly, smiling pleasantly. “Want a drink?” he inquired. When Molly nodded, he turned to go and get some from the kitchen. The Time Lord wondered who he was; he seemed more pleasant than his host.

     Molly turned to the older woman on the couch, seeming a bit more comfortable talking to her. “How's the hip?” she asked sympathetically. The Doctor guessed that this was Mrs. Hudson, the landlady.

     The older woman chuckled, smiling warmly. “Ooo, it's atrocious, but thanks for asking.”

     “I've seen worse,” Molly told her. “You know, I think I might actually know something that could help.” She turned to the Time Lord. “Remember, that salve we were looking at on Tycon? Didn't it say something about helping with sore joints?”

     The Doctor grinned at the memory. “Oh, Tycon, that was a trip. But yeah, we'd probably be able to pick some up for you.”

     Molly seemed to remember that she hadn't introduced her escort yer. “Sorry, um, this is my friend, the Doctor.”

     “Doctor who?” came a voice from behind. The man from earlier was back with a glass of red wine for Molly, who accepted it gratefully.

     The Time Lord grinned at the familiar question. “Just the Doctor,” he told the man.

     His eyebrows raised slightly at that, but after a brief, curious gaze, he turned back to Molly. “I didn't think you were coming. John said you'd been off traveling or something.”

     She smiled fondly, probably remember their months of adventures. “Yeah, it's been me and the Doctor on the road for a while. There's tons to see out there. We've mostly been doing research, but there's plenty of time for sight-seeing too. We just thought we should pop in over Christmas.” The lie sounded pretty natural. “How about you, Detective Inspector? Any plans for Christmas?”

     The man, DI Lestrade the Time Lord realized, nodded with a smile. “Me and the wife are heading up to Dorset first thing in the morning. We're back together, it's all sorted.”

     Without even looking up from his laptop, Sherlock bluntly informed him, “No, she's sleeping with the P.E. teacher.”

     The smile slowly faded from Lestrade's face. The Doctor shot the detective another glare. He liked Lestrade, he seemed like a nice guy, and here Sherlock was trampling all over him, just like he always did.

     Molly also sent the detective a glare, voice unusually sharp and sarcastic as she said, “Thanks for the update, Sherlock.”

     He didn't even seem to notice her tone. Sherlock finally looked up from his laptop, his sharp, intelligent gaze scanning over Molly. “Long time, no see. I see you’ve got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you’re serious about him.”

     The pathologist blinked in surprise. “Sorry, what?” She sounded less confident now.

     The Doctor instantly leaped to her defense. “Sherlock, don't,” he warned in a low tone.

     “In fact, you’re seeing him this very night and giving him a gift,” the detective plowed on, as though the Time Lord hadn't said anything at all.

     John groaned. “Take a day off,” he advised his roommate.

     “Shut up and have a drink,” Lestrade added edgily.

     Sherlock scoffed. “Oh, come on. Surely you’ve all seen the present at the top of the bag – perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best. It’s for someone special, then.” He rose and headed towards the bag, picking up the neatly-wrapped present. “The shade of red echoes her lipstick – either an unconscious association or one that she’s deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has _lurrrve_ on her mind. The fact that she’s serious about him is clear from the fact she’s giving him a gift at all. That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she’s seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she’s wearing. Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts...”

     The detective trailed off uncertainly. He had opened the card-tag on the present, and the Doctor didn't need to be a genius to figure out whose name was in it. He didn't rarely get angry over mere words, but right now he could feel the protective anger storming inside. The Time Lord was perfectly willing to unleash some Oncoming Storm onto the detective. The only thing stopping him was Molly's expression.

     The pathologist had slowly deflated in the face of Sherlock's deductions, looking more meek than the Doctor had seen her in a long time. At the end of it, however, her expression grew grimly determined, righteous anger causing her to square her shoulders and stand tall. The Doctor recognized it as the stance she took against hostile aliens. “ You always say such horrible things. Every time.” She seemed to be gaining more confidence, for her voice rose in volume as she told him, “I've done nothing but help you, Sherlock. I've _always_ been there. All I expect is some simple human decency in return. I'm done being your scratching post. Got it?”

     Sherlock's surprised expression turned slowly into one of horror and... regret? The Doctor almost didn't believe it, but more surprising were the next words out of his mouth. “I am sorry,” he told her solemnly. “Forgive me.” He stepped a little closer, but Molly backed up. She seemed willing to accept the apology, but nothing more.

     The evening dissolved after that, with Sherlock saying something about needing to go examine a body. Molly couldn't help him, since she didn't work at St. Bart's anymore, but she was able to give him the number of someone who might be willing to come in. She headed down to wait in the TARDIS, but the Doctor had a bit of unfinished business first. He stopped Sherlock at the door, a firm hand on the detective's shoulder. “I thought I warned you about how you speak to my companion,” he said in a low, dangerous tone.

     Sherlock just blinked back at him, unimpressed. “I was not aware of the extent of the situation. I apologized,” he pointed out.

     “Yeah, and that's not always going to be enough,” the Time Lord warned him. “Next time, think about what you're going to say before you run off being all clever.” He would have said more, but Molly had defended herself rather well earlier, and he didn't want to take away from that. Reluctantly, he left the flat and returned to the TARDIS.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The next morning, the Doctor found Molly curled up in the library, eyes slightly red as she read by the fire, wrapped in a blanket.

     The Time Lord felt a pang of sympathy for his companion. She'd been tough last night, but the detective's words had still clearly affected her. He hated feeling helpless about something like this.

     However, as he approached the coach she was seated on, an idea came to him. He grinned cheerfully at her. “In the middle of something?”

     Molly jumped slightly at his voice, looking up from her book. “No. Why?”

     With a smirk, he reached out for her hand, which she gave him with bemusement. “Because, Molly Hooper, we're going on a little surprise trip.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, what's this? No Blink, and a surprise trip? Why yes, this does, in fact, mean that there is an ORIGINAL EPISODE coming up! Unlike this version of Human Nature and Family of Blood, this is totally and completely my very own concept, only the Doctor and Molly will be included from the series...es. Although I will reveal that real people will be included, so that's there too, but the concept is mine.
> 
> The real wait begins now, because I have research to do for this story, and that's going to take a while, longer than it did for the Civil War. Which is probably good, 'cause that means I can focus on my schoolwork.


	30. The Last Tsar: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor takes Molly on a trip to try to cheer her up.

     Molly took the Doctor’s offered hand, following him curiously into the console room. Last night’s Christmas party had hurt more than she’d thought it would. It had been months since she’d seen Sherlock Holmes. She’d thought she was over him – or at least that she was strong enough not to care what he’d said. But she’d been wrong. It still hurt when his words brought everything crumbling down. He’d exposed her feelings in front of everyone, and he hadn’t even realized.

     The worst part was realizing she was still head over heels for him. It was so senseless. He was rude, brutal with his words, oblivious, insulting, and clearly didn't give a damn about her. She knew that it was stupid to care about him, she didn't _want_ to care about him. And yet she still felt herself longing for something more with the man who used her only when he needed her. At least she'd stood up to him, but it didn't change how she felt, and how he made her feel, the way he could cut her open with a few choice words. She'd grown so much since traveling with the Doctor, but realizing her feelings for Sherlock had made her feel so weak again. She was weak for caring about him.

     One of the comforts of the evening, besides Sherlock’s exceedingly rare apology, had been the Doctor’s reaction. Usually only dangerous enemies were able to wake the Oncoming Storm inside him, but Molly was pretty sure she’d seen some of it last night, boiling under the surface. The words “protective big brother” were brought to mind again, bringing a slight smile to her face. The Time Lord’s support meant a lot to her.

     As they entered the console room, Molly hung back as the Doctor started up the flight sequence, watching him curiously. “Where are we going?” she asked.

     “It’s a surprise,” the Time Lord told her with a grin. “But you’ll like it, I promise.” Molly couldn’t help but grin back. It was clear the Doctor was trying to cheer her up, and she appreciated the effort. Besides, there could be literally anything behind the TARDIS doors this time. She could feel some of the earlier hurt fading in the face of excitement. Where would they be this time? An alien planet? Sipping tea with Queen Elizabeth? Seeing the invention of the motion picture? The possibilities were endless. She had opened that door so many times, but it never got old, the feeling of wonder as she stepped out into a whole new world, wondering what was about to unfold. That was the magic of the TARDIS, and that's what the Doctor offered her as consolation today. She couldn't say how glad she was to have a friend like him.

     The Doctor threw the TARDIS into flight. By now, Molly was an expert at keeping her footing during the turbulence, and was still standing when the TARDIS landed. That was an added benefit of the months of travel, along with the confidence and knowledge of aliens. Improved balance was definitely a plus for a klutz like her.

     The Time Lord bounded over to the front door, opening it with an exaggerated flourish for Molly. She hurried eagerly towards the door, stepping out to see what it was that awaited her.

     As she took the first steps outside, the Doctor announced grandly, “Welcome to the bright, sunny island of… oh.” He trailed off as he took in their surroundings, which were neither bright nor sunny, and almost certainly not where he’d intended to take them.

     They were outside a building surrounded by a great wooden fence. The building looked like a mansion, but something was off. The fence was a spiky, crudely-built thing that stretched almost to the roof of the two-story mansion. It looked more like it belonged around a prison than a house.

     The Doctor raised his eyebrows at the sight of the house. "Well. Not quite what I was expecting." She couldn't help but roll her eyes. He really was hopeless at flying the TARDIS, no matter what he tried to claim. The Time Lord turned to her with a conspiratorial grin and added, "Still, big scary mansion, could be fun."

     Molly had to hold back a chuckle at the Doctor's childishness. He paused for a moment, suddenly looking concerned. "Unless you prefer bright and sunny?"

     The pathologist blinked in surprise. The Doctor must really be concerned about her if he was willing to give up weird and mysterious for safe and sunny. Molly grinned, assuring him, "The mansion works for me." She could do with a wild alien chase to take her mind off of last night.

     He accepted this with a grin of his own, then turned back towards the fence. “Right then. Allons-y!” The Doctor offered her his arm, which she linked through hers, joining him as they began their adventure.

     They began approaching the fence and the house beyond. As they neared, they noticed two men standing guard outside the fence. They didn't seem to have noticed the appearance of the big blue box, but they could definitely see the Doctor and Molly. They lowered their guns to point straight at the two travelers. The Doctor and Molly froze, but didn't raise their hands above their hands.

     One of the guards barked out, “Halt! What are you doing here? This site is not for civilians!” They both glared at the newcomers with cold, steely expressions, hands completely steady on their guns. Molly knew without being told that they knew how to use the weapons they held and that they would without hesitation.

     As ever, the Doctor acted like he didn't notice their hostility. He flashed them an easy grin, but Molly knew him well enough that she could see how he'd tensed, how his gaze had sharpened as he watched their guns and assessed the threat. “Oh, hello there. Nice place you’ve got here. Now, if you don’t mind, I think this'll explain everything.” He held up his psychic paper for them to see. Molly shot him a concerned look. Usually he babbled longer before pulling out the psychic paper.

     The guards exchanged a suspicious glance, then one approached, snatching the psychic paper from the Doctor's hand. His eyes widened in surprise and respect. “You're from Moscow?” The guard handed him the psychic paper, the aggression fading from his stance. “I apologize. We had no word that you were coming.”

     "Yeah, well, surprise inspection," the Doctor dismissed breezily. He and Molly walked carelessly past the guard towards the fence. Still looking nervously respectful, the two guards opened the gate and led the travelers towards the house.

     As the guard went to open the front door for them, he gave them a queer, stiff smile. "Welcome to the House of Special Purpose."

**SCENEBREAK**

     “Welcome to the House of Special Purpose.”

     The Doctor blinked at the guard, the name sending a shiver through him. He'd had a bad feeling when he'd seen those guards and that house. Something about it had just seemed... _wrong._ It had taken him a bit to notice, but now it was like there were little ripples of wrong in the air. And now, that name, the House of Special Purpose. He was sure he'd heard the name before, somewhere, _somewhere,_ but it was like a flicker in the back of his brain, something there that he just couldn't grasp. All he knew was that it was bad, and that bad things would come of it.

     Molly shot him a concerned look. She was getting good at telling when something was wrong, but he didn't want her to worry, not today. This was supposed to be him cheering her up. So he forced a cheerful grin, whether she bought it or not, and followed the guard into the house.

     The interior of the house contradicted the intimidating, grim exterior. Decorative wallpaper and furniture that looked like it'd been used and lived in, yet still looked tasteful. Books were stacked casually in a bookcase, the covers slightly worn through use, and a few potted plants were scattered about. Yet the Doctor still felt that something was terribly off about the place. It felt fake, constricting, like there wasn't room to breathe.

     The guard led them through the house to a formal, dusty office. Behind a desk sat a middle-aged man with a dark beard and curly hair. He wore a black leather jacket that accented his dark hair, with dark pants to match. There was a cold glint in his eyes, something in his posture that made the Doctor think _dangerous._ Not soldier exactly, but something trained, something calculating. The guard nodded respectfully to the man. “Yurovsky, these people are from Moscow. A Doctor and a Molly Hooper. Doctor, this is Comrade Yurovsky. He's the commandant of this house.”

     The commandant's eyes narrowed. “A doctor? I don't know what help you could expect to be here. But of course, you're free to look at what you will.”

     The Doctor nodded silently, but inside his mind was reeling. Yurovsky. Yurovsky, Yurovsky, Yurovsky. He _knew_ that name, knew it, knew it, but he couldn't place... oh. _Oh._

     Now he remembered. Now he understood. Where they were, _when_ they were, what was happening. And why he had to get Molly the hell out of there as fast as possible. The _wrongness_ was stronger now, thick in the air, and he knew why.

      _A fixed point._

     Not a big one, not like Pompeii for example, but a nasty one, one that would only be painful to see, and he didn't want to put Molly through that. But if they left now, Yurovsky would know something was up, and there were too many guns to get past.

     For now, at least, they'd have to play along.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Molly had sensed something was off with the Doctor earlier, but now she was sure something was wrong. There was dark concern in his eyes, something brooding. She knew something was wrong, but she knew better than to press him about it now.

     The Time Lord told Yurovsky breezily, “Yeah, we'll just have a quick look-around and be on our way then, eh?”

     He nodded. “Of course. I'll have the prisoners line up in the drawing room.” Molly blinked in surprise. _Prisoners?_ So she was right in thinking the place looked like it'd been done up like a prison. But why? Who were the prisoners. She considered asking, but whatever the psychic paper had shown them seemed to make him they were rather high up on the ladder. Asking questions would just look suspicious. She did look questioningly at the Doctor to see if he knew, but the Time Lord had turned stoney-faced, disgust and anxiety just barely visible in his eyes. He didn't reply to the commandant's offer.

     Yurovsky raised an eyebrow at the Doctor's silence. “You _are_ here to see the prisoners, aren't you? This late, I don't see any other reason for someone from Moscow to come here, and certainly a doctor is interested in people, not interior design.” There was sharp suspicion in his tone. Molly wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but she could see that refusing would only cause more suspicion.

     “That will be fine, thank you,” she told the man instead. The Doctor threw her a sharp glance, but she ignored him. She wasn't sure what was up with him, but they were only going to get out of this by playing along, and that was something they were good at.

     The suspicion didn't dissipate entirely, but Yurovsky just nodded in response. “Very well. I'll have them brought out for you.” He nodded to the guard. “Ivashov, show them to drawing room.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     As the guard led them through the house, Molly and the Doctor fell far back enough that they could whisper. “Doctor, what's going on here? Do you know where we are?”

     The Doctor nodded sharply. “Not anywhere good.”

     She fought back a flicker of irritation as she hissed, “I got that, thanks. Anything else?”

     He sighed, then explained in his usual rapid-fire, “You know how we go through time, past, present future, changing events as we go? Time is usually in flux, anything can be changed or altered, and the universe mostly compensates for the changes. But there are points, certain fixed points, that can't be changed at all. It's dangerous, and it tears at the fabric of time. Messing with them can tear the universe apart.”

     “What kind of events?”

     “Usually pivotal historical moments,” he told her. “Y'know, Pompeii, WWIII, assassinations, the like.”

     Molly nodded to show she understood. “Right. So you're saying right we're at a fixed point now?”

     He sighed. “I can feel it. It's part of the whole Time Lord time thing. The closer we get to the event, the more I can feel it.”

     “And we can't change anything at all? Is our being here now hurting the timeline?” she asked worriedly.

     “Nah,” the Doctor said, “otherwise I'd feel it. Right now we're just at the previews, it's the main event we need to stay away from. Can't be more than a few days away.” He raised his voice so the guard ahead of them could hear. “Sorry, your name was Ivashov, right? Do you know what the date is?” The guard gave him a queer look, so he starting rambling excuses. “I'm rubbish at dates, me, can't keep 'em straight in my head to save my life.”

     After giving him that strange glance for a while, the guard supplied, “July 12th.”

     The Doctor nodded, dropping his voice again. “Right then, five days away.” He seemed to grow a bit stonier at the thought, but Molly knew that he was just wrapping up his emotions, trying not to show his distress.

     “Five days away from what?” Molly asked. The Time Lord didn't answer, staring stonily ahead. Molly kept pushing, “Doctor, you know what's going to happen, just tell me.”

     The alien turned to her with concern in his eyes, and a tired sadness. “Are you sure you want to know?” he asked gently. “No matter how horrible it is, we won't be able to do anything to stop it. We'll have to walk away from this knowing we were there and we did nothing. Do you really want to live with that?”

     The pathologist was warmed by his concern, but also, for the first time, a little irritated. He lived with things so much worse every day, and no matter what she saw, he already knew the fixed point, so he'd have to live with it. She'd looked after him for three long months without any help at all, and she was willing to share this burden too. “I'll take my chances,” was all she said.

     Sadness flickered in the Doctor's eyes, but he finally nodded. “Alright. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     By now they had reached a comfortable-looking room with several armchairs. Molly realized it must be the drawing room Yurovsky had mentioned. The guard slipped out, leaving them alone in the room, but only for a few moments.

     From another door, Yurovsky entered, followed by an oddly familiar man. Following him was a middle-aged woman, then four girls who ranged from late teenager to early adult, the last wheeling in a young teenage boy in a wheelchair. The girls all had short, choppy hair, and all of them seemed somewhat pale and drawn, especially the two oldest girls. They all stared out at the Doctor and Molly with suspicious, defiant eyes.

     Yurovsky turned to the prisoners, and told them in a sharp tone, “These people work for the Union in Moscow. You will answer any of their questions.” He turned back to the Doctor, apologizing briefly, “I have to return to my duties. Ivashov will be outside the door if you require anything.” With that, he swept out of the room, leaving the silent, defiant prisoners behind. The Doctor’s eyes flicked briefly towards the door, but with the guard there, it would be too suspicious if they left right away. They were stuck, for now.

     Molly couldn’t stop staring at the boy in the wheelchair and the four girls. When Yurovsky had said “prisoners,” she’d been assuming criminals, or at least people who might conceivably pose a threat, not a crippled child and four teenagers. She lowered her voice so only the Doctor could hear her. “Who are they?”

     The Doctor sighed, and replied, “These are the Romanovs, the last royal family of Russia.” He nodded briefly towards the man, who seemed slightly familiar with his neatly trimmed beard and mustache. “That’s the former Tsar Nicholas II, who was forced by revolutionaries to abdicate in favor of the revolutionary government. That’s his wife, Alexandra, and his daughters, Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Anastasia, and his son and former heir, Aleksei. He and his family got taken hostage after he abdicated.”

     “And I’m sorry, Molly, I’m so sorry, but in five days’ time, they’re going to be executed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys, but that research I was talking about took a while, as did writing this chapter and planning everything out.
> 
> By research, of course, I mean re-reading the fantastic novel that was part of what inspired me to make this episode in the first place, though there are other books that have gotten me interested in the Romanovs' story. It's called "The Lost Crown" by Sarah Miller, and it's a fantastic, seriously researched account of the Romanovs' lives from the beginning of the Russian Revolution to execution in the point of view of the four Grand Duchesses; Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Anastasia. I majorly suggest it. It's over 1000 pages long, but it's so worth it. I also read through the Wikipedia pages of the four Grand Duchesses, which basically matches everything in the book, and looked at a few websites beyond that.
> 
> I hope you like the episode I came up with. I've had this idea for a while, and though the plot itself took a while to plan out, I knew it had to include the Romanovs.


	31. The Last Tsar: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Molly talk to the Romanovs

     Molly drew in a sharp breath. _Executed?_

     She turned back to look at the family in front of them. The boy, Aleksei, couldn’t be more than thirteen, and was crippled to boot. The youngest of the daughters looked no older than eighteen. The whole family was to be executed? Even the children?

     The Doctor gave him a concerned look. “You okay?”

     Molly nodded quickly. “Yeah.” She had seen a lot worse traveling with the Doctor, deaths worse than these, but it still seemed so unfair. The worst part was knowing that there was nothing they could do to change it.

     The family seemed to grow more nervous and defiant in the face of the Doctor and Molly’s whispering. The man, Nicholas, glared at them stiffly and asked, “What have you gathered us for?” There was a certain dignity to his tone, a carry-over from his days as Tsar, she supposed.

     The Doctor blinked in surprise, seeming to have forgotten that the family could see him in his conversation with Molly. “Oh, you know, routine inspection and all that. How’re you lot getting along here?”

     The family seemed surprised at the Time Lord’s amiable tone. It took a few moments for Alexandra to respond. “As well as can be expected, with these Bolsheviks treating us like animals,” she replied stiffly. There was something so contemptuous in the way she said _Bolsheviks,_ and something so regally haughty in her manner. It was like she was still acting like the Tsarina.

     Molly flinched at her words. “Yeah, sorry about that. Yurovsky doesn’t seem very pleasant.”

     Alexandra blinked in surprise at her words, uncertainty in her eyes, but she quickly regained her composure. “Hardly,” was all she said.

     One of the daughters – Molly was pretty sure the proper title for them was Grand Duchess – took a tiny step forward. It was the second oldest –Tatiana, she believed. The girl was dangerously thin and pale, with short auburn hair and guarded gray-blue eyes. In a measured tone, she asked,“Yurovsky said you’d have questions, so what do you want to know?” The girl grasped her mother’s hand; Molly hadn’t realized the woman’s hands were trembling slightly until then. The Grand Duchess didn’t give any sign of noticing her mother’s distress, instead staring coolly at the Doctor and his companion.

     “Oh, no questions, just routine inspection, you know, government making sure you lot haven’t escaped.” the Doctor told them quickly, trying to sound dismissive. “But as long as you’re here, any complaints? Anything at all?”

     Alexandra opened her mouth to answer, but to Molly’s surprise, Aleksei beat her to it. “Well, there was something I saw last night,” he admitted.

     Grand Duchess Tatiana shot the boy a sharp look. “Aleksei, we don’t need to bother these people with that,” she told him.

     “No, it’s fine,” the Doctor assured her. His voice remained pleasantly cheerful, but Molly could see by the set of his jaw that he wasn’t enjoying this any more than she was. Talking to the family like nothing was wrong, all the while knowing they had days left to live. It felt dirty.

     Aleksei brightened at the Doctor’s encouragement. In a low voice he told the Time Lord, “The other night, I woke up pretty late. The door was open a crack, and I could see this eye looking in. It was like this big yellow cat’s eye, staring into the room. I think it saw me looking, cause it blinked and disappeared. I couldn’t see the rest of it, but I could see this sort of shadow leave the door. It seemed pretty tall.” Aleksei seemed almost excited about what he’d seen, proudly boasting his experience.

     Tatiana gave Aleksei a disapproving look, while the youngest daughter, Grand Duchess Anastasia, let out a snort of laughter. “I wish I could’ve come up with that one,” she chuckled. “It’s a fine tale, little brother, but aren’t you getting a little old to be believing in monster stories?”

     Molly blinked at the Grand Duchess in surprise. Anastasia Romanov, the famed “survivor” of the Romanov assassination. She remembered the animated movie about her, and all the rumors and stories of the surviving daughter, but she wasn’t sure of how true any of it was.

     “It’s true,” the former heir insisted stubbornly in response to his sister. “I know what I saw.”

     The oldest daughter, Olga, spoke up in a tired tone. "Aleksei, please, save your stories for another time." Her gaze flickered to the two travelers, suspicion flashing there, before returning to her brother. "I think you've been spending too much time with Anastasia."

     The youngest Grand Duchess looked mocked insulted. "Why do I always get the blame?”

     Olga gave her a smile. "Because it's usually where it belongs, Tatya." Anastasia's grin widened at her sister's jest, seeming pleased. It had probably been far too long since the family had reason to laugh.

     The Doctor had listened to Aleksei's tale with a slight frown, looking both thoughtful and worried. Molly could tell he was taking the heir - the Tsarveich, she would later learn the term was - and his story seriously. It made sense. Wherever they went, danger and aliens always seemed to follow. Why shouldn't the Tsarveich's monster be real? They'd faced far more impossible things before.

     The Time Lord crouched down so he was level with the seated Tsarveich. His tone was serious as he asked, "Aleksei, when did you see this?"

     "Two nights ago."

     Before the Doctor could continue his questions, Alexandra cut in sharply. "Why are you questioning my son? You must have something better to do than interview a child about his dreams." The Doctor and Molly's calm attitudes must have lessened the gear of them, if the Tsarina was willing to scold him for that.

     "It wasn't a dream, Mama," Aleksei insisted. "I really did see it."

     The Doctor nodded thoughtfully, ignoring Alexandra. "Right then. Aleksei, you think you could show ms where you found that eye?"

     The Tsarveich nodded confidently, looking excited. "Sure!" The rest of the family looked scared, as though worried the Doctor would take Aleksei away and never bring him back. Not an unfounded fear, Molly reflected uneasily.

     The Doctor seemed to realize their distress, for he turned to Tsar Nicholas and added, "If it's alright with you. In fact, you should come, I could use the help."

     The Tsar looked thoughtfully at his excited son for a few moments before giving a slow nod. "Very well." His calm tone seemed to soothe his family, who began nodding in quiet acceptance. Molly felt a pang of guilt. They were trusting the Doctor and her, but these were people they couldn't save. It felt like a betrayal.

     The Time Lord nodded briefly. "Right. First, I think we’ll need a quick chat with Yurovsky. We’ll need to stay around a bit longer than expected. Come on, Molly. We’ll meet you lot back here in a few minutes."

     They turned and started towards the door, leaving the bewildered suspicious family behind.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The two travelers followed the guard Ivashov for a few minutes in silence. Molly couldn’t get the family’s fate out of her head. It just seemed too horrible. How could they kill all of them?

     After a few minutes, the Doctor launched straight into a quiet lecture, as though replying to Molly’s unasked question. “Tsar Nicholas II was twenty-six when his father died, leaving him untrained and unprepared for the throne. He was never a really popular leader, or a good one. Russia was obliterated in a war with Japan, leaving them weak by the time World War I rolled around. No one was ready for the war, least of all the Tsar, but he thought he could handle it. He fired the highly popular commander-in-chief of the army and took over himself, despite limited military training. The war was a train wreck after that, and ol’ Nicholas had basically painted a big red target on the back of his head. The army revolted, and he was forced to abdicate the throne. A provisional government took over, then the Bolshevik communists, who’ve been holding the Tsar and his family prisoners for the last year or so.”

     Molly frowned.“I get why they deposed him then, but why kill him, and his family? Why now, if they’ve been keeping him prisoner for so long?”

     “Because Russia’s in the middle of a civil war,” he explained. “Supporters of the Tsar have risen up against the Bolshevik. They lose, eventually, but they have the Bolsheviks worried enough to destroy the rebels’ reason to fight.”

     The pathologist nodded to show her understanding, but inside her mind whirled with images of the family. “How?” she asked quietly.

     The Doctor stared stonily ahead, clearly as affected by the hopelessness of it as she was.“In five night’s time they’ll be told they’re being moved to the cellar to keep them safe from nearby fighting, and the family will believe it. They’ll be told to line up, along with a few loyal servants. Yurovsky will come down with a firing squad, read the family their sentence of execution, and before the family can do more than look shocked, they’ll be shot down.” He gave her a short side glance. “Anastasia doesn’t survive, by the way.” Molly blinked at him, surprised by his shrewdness. “I saw you looking at her earlier, but no, she dies with the rest of the family.”

     “How did the survival rumors get started then?” she asked curiously, trying to push the image of the family bleeding their lives out from her mind.

     “The family’s bodies were found years after the war, so no one was quite sure who was who. Eventually, though, they figured out two of the bodies were missing; Aleksei and one of his younger sisters, either Maria or Anastasia. Of course, humans being what they are, they just love a good story of survival and hope, no matter how ridiculous it is. A few people after that pretended to be one of the surviving children, most famous of them being Anna Anderson, who pretended for several years to be Anastasia. She even gained the approval of some of the Romanovs' surviving family members. A few years later, though, two more bodies were found, the two missing children. Everyone was accounted for, and no one had survived, yet the stories lived on, as they tend to.”

     Molly’s mind went back to the family they’d just seen, and the boy in the wheelchair.“Speaking of Aleksei, why’s he in the chair?” Based on everything she’d heard so far, she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know, but it couldn’t be worse than everything she’d already heard.”

     “Hmm? Oh, right, the wheelchair. Aleksei’s got hemophilia,” he explained. “Y’know, stops the blood from clotting, makes you bleed out way longer than you should. A bruise for him turns into massive swelling and pain, which is what’s happened now. You might’ve noticed his knee’s swollen. That could be from weeks or even months ago, with his condition. He’ll be in that chair for the rest of his life, what’s left of it.”

     “And there’s nothing you can do at all?” Molly pressed desperately. She was so used to their usual method of ignoring the rules and actively saving people that sitting back and letting this happen was rubbing her the wrong way. Every instinct tugged against it, telling her to save the family like they saved everyone.

     The Doctor’s expression hardened. “Nothing at all. A fixed point is a fixed point. It’s called that for a reason. The last time someone tried to change one, the world nearly ended, and the only way to save it was to let the fixed point play out the way it was supposed to.” Usually, the Doctor was so friendly and normal (for a given definition) that she forgot he wasn’t human. Not now. Now she could see the years in his eyes, hear the authority of a Time Lord in his tone. It unnerved her, along with what he was saying. It seemed so unlike the Doctor.

     Still, she knew better than to press him about it. If the Doctor wasn’t willing to break the rules to saves someone’s life, then there was literally no way to break that rule. Instead, she decided to focus on something they could actually change. “So, you think Aleksei actually saw an alien? He is a kid, after all. He might have made it up.”

     The Doctor shrugged. “Maybe, but we can’t take any chances. We can’t let any aliens interfere with the fixed point. Besides, if there’s an alien here, it’d explain why the TARDIS brought us here.”

     Molly chuckled drily. “Are you sure it’s not just your driving?”

     The Time Lord gave the first actual grin she’d seen from him since they entered the house. “Oi! My driving’s fine, thank you.”

     Before she could retort, they arrived back in Yurovsky’s office. The man seemed somewhat irked to see them again so soon. “Finished with them already?” he asked lightly. He seemed to have been expecting a more lengthy interview.

     “Not quite,”the Doctor replied coolly. “In fact, we’re just popping in to let you know we might need to stay the night.” Molly shot him a surprised glance at this assessment, but offered no complaint. “There’s a few more things I need to ask Nicholas and Aleksei about. I hope you don’t mind.”

     Yurovsky still seemed somewhat suspicious, but all he said was, “Not at all. Feel free to stay as long as you need. We’ll find a spare room for you to stay in.”

     “Actually,” Molly spoke up, “we’ll probably be fine staying in the Romanovs’ rooms.” That would keep them out of the range of guards, and it would let them stay close to the family that had alerted them to the aliens in the first place.

     Yurovsky’s eyes narrowed at the request, but after a moment he nodded. “Very well. The Doctor may stay with the deposed Tsar, and you, Citizen Hooper, may stay with the daughters.” He clearly wasn’t happy with the odd request, but whatever the psychic paper had shown him had left his hands tied.

     The Doctor quirked his lips into a quick grin, but somehow it seemed empty and grim. “Right. Off we go then.”

     They started off for the door, but Yurovsky’s voice made them pause. “Forgive me, but I’m not sure why you were sent here. As you can see, nothing has changed. It will commence as planned.”

     The Doctor’s jaw clenched, and Molly could feel anger boiling deep in her chest. To refer to the murder of a family so casually, so heartlessly. She wished she could turn to the man and throw his hateful words back in his face, but she knew she couldn’t. They had to play along.

     Instead, the Doctor replied with a short, “It’s like we said, just a routine check.” With that, the two travelers turned and left, Yurovsky’s narrowed gaze following them as they went.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Right after they returned to the family, the Doctor got ready to follow the Tsar and his son. Molly was going to stay with the rest of the Romanovs and see what other information she could find. Before he left, she pulled him aside and asked quietly, “You think this alien is dangerous?”

     The Time Lord shrugged. “Could be. But we need to find out. We can’t let them interfere with the fixed point.”

     Molly flinched at the idea. _Right,_ she thought bitterly, _we can’t let them die too early._ But reminding the Doctor of that wouldn’t help matters. He clearly didn’t like this any more than she did, and badgering him about it would only make it worse for him.

     Instead, she gave him a tight smile and told him, “Good luck.”

     The Time Lord nodded grimly, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Thanks.”

     Seeing that the Tsar and the Tsarveich were ready, the Doctor turned and followed them out of the room, leaving Molly alone with the doomed Romanov family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait - a week's worth of schoolwork after Disney caught up with me very suddenly this weekened. -_- Oh well, it's over now - sorta. There may be another delay this week and next, but after that I'm in the clear for the rest of the summer. :D
> 
> I don't know whether any of you heard about the thing with John Hurt and the 50th Anniversary. I won't say anything for those who want to avoid spoilers, but if you have, please message me, I need someone to rant with. And in the newest episode, HE SAID THE THING OHMYTIMELORD! :D
> 
> Anyway, I'll try to update again soon.
> 
> Also, my characterizations of the Romanovs come from the book and from their wikipedia pages, which are built based on accounts of the people who knew them when they were alive.


	32. The Last Tsar: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor goes to investigate Aleksei's monster while Molly talks to the Romanovs

     After a few awkward minutes, the Romanov daughters agreed to show Molly their shared room. It was right next to the Tsar, Tsarina, and Tsarveich's shared room. The Doctor, Nicholas, and Aleksei weren't there anymore; Molly assumed they'd found a lead of some sort and were following it. Hopefully there was nothing to worry about.

     The room was small, but not overly crowded. Instead of beds, four hard army cots were set up. The other three Romanovs filed into the room past Molly, but Grand Duchess Maria stayed beside her, looking at the room critically. “I’m not sure where you’d want to sleep,” she apologized. “I can give up my cot if you need.”

     “No, it’s fine,” Molly assured her, “I’ll just sleep on the floor.” With a sympathetic grimace, she added, “The cots probably aren’t much better.”

     Maria chuckled. “They’re not so bad,” she told the pathologist.“We’ve never slept on anything else, so we’re used to it.”

     Molly blinked in surprise. “These are your cots?” She’d assumed that the cots were part of their punishment, that four princesses of the largest country in Europe would sleep in something far more regal.

     Maria nodded with a grin, seeming amused by her surprised reaction. From her spot on her cot, Anastasia added, “When we first came here, the cots weren’t here yet, so we slept on the floor. It was like camping out.”  
     Maria turned to sit beside Anastasia, while Molly lowered herself onto Maria’s cot. The second youngest Grand Duchess blinked curiously at Molly. “What’s your job in Moscow?” she asked.

     Tatiana shot her sister a short glare. “Maria, there’s no need to harass the woman.” Her dark gray-blue eyes narrowed distrustingly as she turned to look at Molly.

     Maria looked chastised, but Anastasia just rolled her eyes.“Lighten up, Governess,” she teased her older sister. “You’re wound more tightly than Mama these days.” Even as the Grand Duchess joked, Molly could see weariness in her eyes and in the tired slump of her shoulders. Her joking seemed to come more from habit than from any feeling of joy.

     Molly felt a pang of sympathy for the youngest Romanov daughter, and for the suspicious Tatiana. Kept prisoner for so long, cooped up in one house for months without much hope of ever leaving, and soon they were to be brutally murdered. Hearing the names and ages and how the deed was done was bad enough, but now she was seeing them as real people, as a real family that argued and teased and loved just like any other. That made it far, far worse.

     Aloud, she answered Maria’s question with something as close to the truth as she could manage. “Er, actually, I haven’t been there that long. Me and the Doctor’ve been working together for a few months now.”

     “Working together on what?” Maria asked curiously.

     Molly shrugged helplessly. “Medical stuff, you know. We were working in a hospital for a while.”

     Tatiana looked up quickly, suspicion fading quickly to be replaced by sharp interest. “You were a nurse?” she asked.

     “Sort of,” Molly replied vaguely. She was a pathologist, not a medical doctor, but she’d gone to medical school to get her degree. Once she’d started traveling with the Doctor, she’d gone back over some of what she’d learned there, well aware that the life they led was likely to lead to serious injury at one point or another. “I’m a doctor, actually.”

     Tatiana’s expression grew hungry with longing and wistful memories. “It’s been so long since I’ve been in a hospital,” she sighed. “It must be great to be out there helping people. I wish I was out there doing that instead of being cooped up in here.”

     Molly was surprised at the Grand Duchess’s rapid change in attitude, but didn't question it. "You were a nurse before?"

     Tatiana nodded with a smile that for once didn't seem tired or sad. "I was a Red Cross nurse," she said with a fond gleam in her eyes. "Headed some committees. Of course, me and Olga were shielded from the worst wounds, no matter how much I begged to help, but we learned a lot." Her voice softened sadly as she added, "I miss being able to help people like that."

     In a tired, gentle voice, the eldest Grand Duchess spoke up. "Tatiana, you do help people." Olga seemed far more tired and worn-down than the rest of her sisters, but there was still warmth in her eyes as she looked at Tatiana. "You looked after us when we were left behind with Aleksei in Tobolsk. You've always been head of the house, Governess.”

     "And you look after Mama better than anyone," Anastasia added firmly.

     Tatiana gave a small smile at her sisters' praise, but after a few moments it faded. "It's not enough, though. Out there people are dying, and there's nothing we can do. Our country is falling to pieces around us and we can't do anything but watch."

     Molly felt a rush of respect for the girls. She had expected the Grand Duchesses to be sheltered and unassuming, but these seemed to be down-to-earth, intelligent girls who were passionate about their family and their country. The guilt weighed even more heavily on her heart now. In a low voice, she asked, "Olga, how old are you?"

     The eldest daughter blinked in surprise at the question. "Twenty-two. Why?"

     Molly ignored the question and turned to Anastasia. "And you?”

     "Seventeen," the Grand Duchess answered warily.

     "And your brother?"

     "Thirteen," Maria told her. "And I'm nineteen and Tatiana's twenty-one. Why? What do our ages matter?"

     Molly kept her expression composed, though their answers were like blows to the gut. The youngest was thirteen and the eldest only twenty-two. Lives with such potential, so much ahead of them, only to be stolen away. Her thoughts of guilt were starting to become a broken record in her head, but it didn't get any easier to look at these people and know there was no way to save them.

     Aloud, she told Maria, "Nothing, just standard procedure, you know, something the Doctor said to ask.”

     Maria looked at her curiously. “You and the Doctor don’t seem like any Bolshies I’ve met.” Her eyes widened as she realized what she’d said. “Wait, sorry, not what I meant.” Molly assumed _bolshies_ was some sort of derogatory slang for Bolsheviks.

     Molly just chuckled. “No, it’s alright. I don’t like them either. I certainly don’t think it’s right to imprison a whole family, even if they are the family of the deposed Tsar. It’s not like you guys did anything wrong.”

     The four sisters looked at her curiously, with varying degrees of hope at her words. Olga finally said, “Maria’s right. You and the Doctor don’t seem like anyone we’ve met. You speak so openly against your government; everyone else is too afraid of the Bolsheviks. And I’ve never seen clothing like yours before.” Molly glanced briefly at her jeans, jean jacket, and t-shirt, and her hair pulled into a pony-tail.

     The pathologist shrugged. “We’re a bit odd, yeah,” she admitted easily. “But that can be a good thing.”

     The second youngest sister sighed. “It's nice having you here, Molly. It’s been so long since we’ve been able to talk to anyone properly,” Maria told her wistfully. “I used to be able to talk to the guards, but then I got in trouble when one of them made me a birthday cake. We weren’t allowed to talk to them after that. We’ve got each other, but it can still get lonely.”

     Molly felt another pang of guilt. “Sorry about that. And sorry about just dropping in like this. I can’t really tell you what the Doctor’s up to, classified and all that – ”

     “Don’t worry about it,” Olga assured her. “I don’t know what that Doctor of yours is doing, but I do know I haven’t seen Aleksei this excited in a long time.” She gave a fond smile as she thought of her brother. “Imprisonment is getting to all of us, even Sunbeam. But your Doctor seems to help. Maybe fantastic monsters and heroic quests to find them are exactly what he needs right now.”

     The pathologist couldn’t give a proper answer. They were making Aleksei and the daughters happy now, maybe, but that didn’t make up for their later fate.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The Doctor followed Aleksei and Nicholas through the house, followed by Ivashov. He was still on edge – his time-sense was being screwed up by the wrongness of the fixed point. He could feel it, like a heavy fog, weaving its way around him. It was uncomfortable and worrying. If they didn’t find this alien soon, there could be major damages to the timeline.

     He’d asked that they stay overnight in case the creature was one that only came out at night. That’s when Aleksei had seen it, at any rate. He couldn’t take any chances with this creature, not this close to the established event. They only had five days until the fixed point; the closer they got, the more dangerous it was to change anything, even little things. He really didn’t want a repeat of the last time a fixed point had been changed, nor did he want to relive those memories.

     As they started towards the elevator to the second level, they were stopped by a new guard. “Ivashov, Yurovsky needs you,” the man said in a low, husky voice. “He sent me to take over here.” The Doctor frowned. If Yurovsky still thought they needed a guard to follow them around, then he clearly didn't trust them. He was a smart man, he would probably figure out they were lying sooner or later. They needed to find those aliens quickly and get out, before it was too late.

     They rode up to the second floor. “This is our room,” Aleksei said as they approached one of the many doors. “I saw the eye up there.” He pointed up towards the top of the door.

     The Time Lord immediately took out his sonic screwdriver and began scanning the door where indicated. He stiffened when he noticed something unusual. “Some low readings of excess heat,” he remarked to no one in particular. He lowered the screwdriver to the ground, grinning slightly as the readings grew stronger. “Ah, left us a trail, did you?”

     The Doctor didn’t offer an explanation to either of the baffled Romanovs as he crouched over the floor, following the faint trail of heat. It led him down the stairs to the first floor and to the other end of the house, where he noticed something odd. He looked up at Aleksei and Nicholas. “Are you sure you’ve only seen that thing the one time?”

     Aleksei nodded. “Yeah, why?”

     “’Cause there’s not just one trail,” the Doctor breathed, eyes widening, “There’s hundreds.” The thin lines of heat wove across the ground, winding and intersecting, some far fainter than others.

     “Hundreds of what?” Nicholas asked, sounding baffled at the Doctor’s behavior.

     “Trails, hundreds of trails,” the Doctor replied distractedly, waving his hand for emphasis. “Whatever it is, it’s giving off more heat than a human, leaving a trail of heat behind, a trail I can follow, but there’s literally hundreds of trails in this house.” He put his sonic screwdriver away, starting to pace with nervous energy. “Right, hundreds of trails, but they’re not all fresh, so not hundreds of creatures. ‘Course, I’d still say it’s more than one, but I think this is the work of a few creatures over a long period of time, not a lot all at once. But how did they keep from being seen for that long? Big ol’ beasts with yellow eyes, you think someone would’ve spotted them. Unless…”

     Something was wrong with the picture behind him. Nicholas and Aleksei looked as baffled as before, but the guard behind them had gone completely still, expression going curiously blank. The Doctor turned and looked straight at him, realizing aloud, “Unless they’re shapeshifters.”

     The guard’s expression hardened, something steely glinting in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice had a strange, metallic edge, and seemed too high. “Oh, well done, sir, very clever indeed.”

     The Doctor straightened fully, studying the guard quietly. To all appearances, he seemed human, but he was standing far too still, not even blinking as he stared at the Time Lord. The Doctor measured the guard's expression, then quickly calculated the distance between himself and the Romanovs and the guard and the Romanovs. If he had to, if he moved quickly enough, he could reach them before the guard did, but what then? Aleksei was in a wheelchair; there was no way he'd be able to outrun an alien.

     Best thing to do was to keep him talking. The Doctor put his hands casually in his pockets, gaze not moving from the guard's face. “Well, it's a nice trick, I'll give you that,” he said lightly.

     The guard stared unblinkingly at the Doctor. It was as though he'd been acting before, and now no longer needed to seem human. “As was yours,” he complimented stiffly. “Figuring it out like that.” His gaze flicked to the Doctor's jacket, where he'd stored the screwdriver. In a sharper tone, he commented, “That is not technology of this planet.”

     The Doctor scoffed. “You're one to talk.” Hands stuffed in his pockets, he began walking towards the guard, playing it casual. “Wait now, I can figure this one out. Shapeshifter, excess heat, 19th century, I know I can figure out who you are. 'Course, I'd appreciate help, maybe your true form?”

     “Oh, you've seen enough already,” the guard growled, voice suddenly low and dangerous. The alien tensed, then without warning, gave a low, keening noise that the Doctor was pretty sure was below the humans' range of hearing. He tensed. A warning call, to the other aliens in the house. Probably calling for back-up. So there were more aliens coming; he had to get Aleksei and Nicholas out of there, fast.

     The Doctor didn't give any outward sign that he'd heard the call. He kept his pace casual as he approached the guard. As he passed Nicholas, he lowered his voice so only the Tsar could hear. “When I say so, take Aleksei and run.” He didn't give the Tsar a chance to argue, instead coming up to stand before the guard, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. “Maybe a name then? Rank, intention? Something?”

     “I think not.” The guard's expression had grown darker, his eyes shining with malice.

     The Doctor stepped minutely to the side, instinctively shielding the Romanovs from his view. “Well, that's no fun,” he quipped. Keeping it light. Keeping him unassuming.

     The alien tipped his head slightly to the side, studying the Doctor. “Well, maybe I just think it's rude to ask so many questions without saying anything about yourself first. How about you... Doctor, wasn't it? You're not local, clearly. What brings you to Earth?”

     “Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that,” the Doctor replied vaguely. “Y'know, just wandering. Didn't even mean to come here.”

     The guard's eyes narrowed. “You're lying,” he hissed. “Tell me why you're here!” Steps from further down the hall. They were running out of time.

     The Doctor narrowed his eyes. “Doesn't matter. What matters is that you get out of here, fast. This really isn't a time to have aliens around. I can offer transport if you need it, but Earth doesn't need any visitors right now.”

     For the first time, the guard grinned, a cruel little smirk that left the Doctor no doubt of his intentions. “I think not, Doctor. We're rather starting to like it here.”

     The Time Lord wasn't smiling anymore. “Last chance,” he warned. “If you don't take it, I'll have to stop you. And I will. Don't doubt that.”

     The guard tilted his head slightly, still wearing that smug smirk. “I think, Doctor, if you try that, you will find yourself outnumbered.”

     Shadows approaching around the corner. Time was up.

     “We'll see about that,” the Doctor said lightly. Right before he activated his sonic screwdriver, and the radio he'd been fiddling with in his pocket.

     An ear-piercing shriek echoed from the radio. The guard slapped his hands to his ears, doubling over as the loud screech continued. The Doctor turned immediately to the former Tsar. “Run!” Nicholas looked baffled, but he removed his hands from his ears and took off with his son's wheelchair, glancing back only once.

     Long enough to see the creature change.

     The Doctor knew Nicholas couldn't move fast with Aleksei in the wheelchair, so he stayed in front of the alien with the sonic screwdriver blaring until he was sure the former Tsar had made it to the elevator. He started to take off, but then it was too late. The alien had changed completely now, and the true form towered over the Doctor, yellow eyes glaring hatefully at the Time Lord.

     A strange _hum_ sounded, an oddly distracting sound that made his thoughts fuzzy and distorted. He only had a moment to wonder on it before darkness blotted out his vision, sending him crashing to the ground, unconcious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's more of The Last Tsar. Sorry for the wait, again, schoolwork's been catching up with me. I've got Friday off though, and only two exams to study for, so hopefully I'll be able to get more out this weekend. If not, you'll only have to wait another week, then I should be able to resume regular updates. :)
> 
> Again, characterization of the Romanovs, especially the daughters, comes from "The Lost Crown" by Sarah Miller, and a bit from their Wikipedia pages. The layout of the house comes from the help of JiordanoAsya of Fanfiction.net, who has visited what used to be the House of Special Purpose, and was able to tell me about how it looked when the Romanovs lived there. Thanks for the information, it was seriously helpful. :) And yes, the Romanov daughters actually did sleep on army cots their whole lives.


	33. The Last Tsar: Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly wonders where the Doctor has gotten to and the Doctor awakens to find himself a prisoner

     Molly and the Romanov daughters froze at the sound of a screech blaring from the floor below. The Grand Duchesses looked baffled, but Molly knew the sound well. _The sonic screwdriver._

     “It’s alright,” she assured the concerned girls. “That’s just the Doctor.” Of course, if he was resorting to amplifying the sonic screwdriver, that probably meant he was in some kind of trouble. But that wasn’t anything new, and someone needed to watch the rest of the Romanovs, so she stayed where she was, anxiously wondering what had happened to the Time Lord.

     A few minutes later, she heard the pounding of running feet, and a panicked cry from further down the hallway. “Alix! Girls! Get in the room, quickly!” It was Nicholas, sounding panicked. The Romanov daughters shared a baffled, scared glance, then bolted for the door, hurrying into their parents’ room. Molly followed quickly, freezing when she took in the scene in the Tsar’s room. The daughters had already filed in, and were crowding around Nicholas and Aleksei, along with Alexandra. But there was someone missing.

     In a voice that was too rushed, too worried, she asked, “What happened? Where’s the Doctor?”

     Eyes still wide, but slightly calmer now, the Tsar quickly explained what had happened, from the trails to the Doctor’s conversation with the guard, to fleeing with Aleksei. “I looked back only once,” Nicholas told her, knuckles white as he gripped the handles of Aleksei’s wheelchair. “It – he turned into… _something._ Some sort of beast. I’ve never seen the like before.”

     Alexandra gripped her husband’s arm tightly, fear mixed with concern in her expression. “Nicky, are you sure?” she pressed shakily.

     “It’s the truth, Alix,” the Tsar told her solemnly. “Everything Aleksei said, and the Doctor. There are monsters among us.”

     Molly nodded with a sigh. “Yes, there are monsters, aliens, in fact. And now they’ve captured the Doctor.” That part worried her more than anything. If these aliens were capable of subduing a Time Lord, there was no telling how dangerous they might be. Still, the fact that they had been hiding out in human form for so long rather than trying to actively take over did say something.

     The Romanovs all looked at her with varying expressions of fear and curiosity. Before they could question her, however, the door behind them opened abruptly, with Yurovsky storming in with a stony expression. Glaring at Nicholas, he barked, “Did one of you cause that sound?”

     Molly felt a thrill of fear. The guards were so suspicious and tightly-wound, they probably thought the sonic screwdriver had been some kind of weapon going off. He wouldn’t believe any of the Romanovs, so Molly forced herself to square her shoulders and step forward, glaring condescendingly at the man, channeling Sherlock as best she could. “That was the Doctor, actually, scanning something,” she told him coolly, not letting it show how worried she was.

     Yurovsky glared at her suspiciously and asked, “And where’s the Doctor now?”

     The man was intimidating, but she’d faced worse, and she had bigger things to worry about than him. In a coldly condescending tone that might as well have been Sherlock’s, she told him, “Where the Doctor is is his business. He is your superior, Yurovsky, show some respect. He’s not a dog to be called at your will.”

     A muscle twitched on the commandant’s face. In a stiff voice he pointed out, “With all due respect, Citizen Hooper, this is my house.”

     “And?” Molly asked coolly. “The government gave you this house, Commandant, and they will not allow you to keep it if you do not show the proper respect. If you pester the Doctor, I think you will find you have more than keeping this house to worry about.”

     That finally seemed to get to Yurovsky. He bowed stiffly, gave a short, “Apologies,” then turned and exited, slamming the door behind him. Molly waited a few moments after he’d left, then relaxed, letting out a slow breath.

     Nicholas watched her curiously, wearing a guarded expression. “Impressive, Miss Hooper,” he said slowly, watching her thoughtfully.

     Molly shrugged. “Lucky, more like. The Doctor would’ve been able to come up with something better if he were here.”

     There were a few moments of silence, which were finally broken by Olga. “You’re not really from Moscow, are you?” She was looking at Molly with a knowing glance, suspicion mixed with gratitude. “You lied to Yurovsky. A Bolshie wouldn't do that. You're not one of them at all.”

     Molly hesitated, then shrugged. “Oh well, you're not the ones we were trying to fool anyway. No, we're not Bolsheviks.”

     “Then who are you?” Alexandra asked sharply. The terrified woman was gone, replaced by the steely Empress, determined to protect her family.

     “Travelers,” Molly replied simply. “The Doctor and I are... well, we show up when things like this happen. Mostly we end up stopping aliens from attacking Earth, but we do so much more.” She trailed off, taking a moment to really _think_ about everything the Doctor had done, everything she had done. All the lives they'd saved. All the crises they'd averted, all the good they'd done, all the good _she'd_ done. Molly had never really thought to think about it before, but she'd done so much at the Doctor's side. She'd become stronger – not just the Doctor's sidekick, not just the helper. She'd looked after him unassisted for almost three months, and she'd helped him save so many people. She may not be a Time Lord with a TARDIS, but she wasn't half bad. She was strong now, and though she was still scared, she knew that she could save Russia, and the Doctor, without his help. She wasn't a hero, not like him, but she could do this.

     Molly looked up at the Romanovs with a Doctor-esque grin, filled with more confidence than she'd ever felt before. “There are aliens in this house,” she told the baffled family firmly. “They've captured the Doctor. And we are going to get him back.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     The Doctor's first thought as he returned to consciousness was, _I've really got to stop getting knocked out and waking up on hard floors._ His back and neck ached from the less-than-comfortable he'd been left in on the floor, but other than that he didn't seem injured. The Time Lord slowly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as he was met with total darkness. He moved slowly, getting his knees under him and rising to his feet, careful of the ceiling he couldn't see.

     As the grogginess wore off, the Doctor realized he was in a small room of some sort, probably a closet. The room had no windows and was almost pitch black, save for some light peeking in from under the door. The Doctor gave the handle an experimental turn, but no luck. He was locked in, and he knew without looking that his sonic screwdriver had already been confiscated.

     He began pacing in the dark, the release of energy helping him sort out his thoughts. Molly had probably heard the sonic screwdriver and knew something was up, but she was likely to stay with the Romanovs rather than come looking for him. Even if she didn't like it, she knew how vital it was for the Romanovs to stay alive now so they could die at the proper time later. The timeline had to be preserved.

     Unfortunately, the rest of the house had probably heard the screwdriver as well, and that meant tightened security and more risk of the aliens being found by the wrong people. If Yurovsky's guards found them, they'd either kill the aliens outright or try to turn them into weapons for the Bolshevik cause. Neither was a scenario the Doctor particularly wanted. Even if the aliens were hostile, he wanted to find out more about them and what their intentions were before passing judgment on them. The best scenario here would be to somehow get the aliens onto the TARDIS and fly them somewhere where they couldn't do any damage. Of course, that never seemed to actually work, but it was a nice theory.

     What worried him, more than the aliens' plans for him or what would happen if they got caught, was the approaching deadline. There were only five days left until the Romanovs had to be executed, and the closer that day got, the more dangerous it was to mess with events. Anything they did now could tear the fabric of time irreparably, including banging on the door and shouting for help, so the Doctor just continued his silent pacing, hoping Molly would somehow figure out what had happened and get him out of there discretely.

     Suddenly, footsteps sounded from outside, followed by the sound of someone turning the door handle. The Doctor tensed, whirling quickly to face the door. He wondered briefly if he should try to bolt past whoever was coming in, but the figure slipped in and shut the door behind them too quickly. They flipped on a nearby light switch, and the Doctor was able to get a good look at them

     The person before him was human-shaped, but almost assuredly not human. She – for it was a woman – was dressed like a maid and seemed average enough in features, but the unblinking eyes and the smirk she wore immediately tipped the Doctor off to her true nature.

     He gave her an evaluating glance, gaze flitting up and down in a search for weapons or signs of aggression. Finding none, he concluded that she'd come to talk, and took a few casual steps toward her. “Y'know, I know you're not exactly local or anything,” he said lightly, “but around here it's not exactly good manners to knock a bloke out and stuff him in a closet. Hey, your planet may be different, but when in Rome and all that.”

     The woman rolled her eyes in a surprisingly human gesture. “From what my husband says, you've got quite a mouth on you. Seems to me he was right. Am I going to have to listen to your babble this whole time?”

     The Doctor shrugged easily. “Depends on what you're expecting to hear. Now me, oh, I'd love to hear more about you lot. But maybe you'd like to hear me tell you better?” The woman's grin faltered slightly, but she continued to glare stoically at the Time Lord. “I got a good look at, I think you said it was your husband's, true form earlier. Shapeshifters, in this time period, with that appearance, that'd put you somewhere in the Sabio galaxy, probably the planet Shyklen. Ah, lovely place, great parties, bit picky about their fruit though. Home of the Khaynenian race, isn't it?”

     A muscle twitched in the woman's face, but after a few moments her smirk returned. “You're very well-informed, Doctor.”

     “Oh, just been knocking around the universe a bit, eventually you have to pick up something,” he dismissed breezily. The Doctor's brow furrowed as he continued, “The question is though, what are you lot doing here? Khaynens don't usually stray this far off-planet, and they're not exactly the conquering types.”

     The woman stared at him silently for a few moments, then growled out in a metallic, high tone like her husband's, “I am Shira, Empress of the Khaynen, and my husband is Shoto, Emperor. We are the wrongfully banished royal family of Shyklen.”

     The Doctor's eyebrows flew up. “Royal family? Didn't know they even had one. Aren't they a rather passive constitutional government?”

     The woman, Shira, gave an angry snort, turning away from the Doctor and beginning to slowly pace. “They turned on me, the rightful ruler, those filthy peasants. Then the soldiers rose up beside them, then the nobles, then it was all over. They deposed me, and told my entire family that we were no longer welcome on Shyklen. Banished from our own home, from the planet my family has ruled for millennium beyond counting.” Bitter anger burned in her tone, which no longer held a trace of humanity in it.

     After a few moments, her pacing calmed. She looked up at the Doctor, face coolly composed. “But now, Doctor, we have found a new planet, with such a fascinating set-up. So many different countries and governments and rulers, all so divided. These humans turned on each other so quickly. But that can be changed. We can unite them together, turn them into an army that will desolate the Khaynen rebels and restore our place on the throne. Russia is the largest country on all of Earth. Their army is weak and divided, but with the right hand to guide it, it will grow strong, strong enough to win this Great War the whole planet seems to be fighting. That war is our ticket to ruling this planet.”

     The Doctor held back a groan. Really, the taking-over-the-Earth schemes were getting kind of old. Why didn't anyone ever try to take over Saturn instead? It'd be a hell of a lot easier, what with no people and everything. But Earth these days seemed to be some enormous magnet for cliché schemers and rampaging aliens.

     “Nice plan,” the Time Lord complimented lightly, “but I have to say, you're really expecting to take over the world as a cleaning maid and a couple of guards?”

     She threw him an annoyed glare. “My family and I can take whatever form we want, as long as we can access the person's DNA once. These are simply the most convenient forms at the moment. But once this regiment of guards leaves this house, we will be taken to the capital of Moscow, where we can impersonate as many people as it takes until we reach the man behind it all, VI Lenin himself.”

     The Doctor suddenly smirked, remembering something from his last run-in with the Khaynens. “Ah, but you lot can't just change your whole body structure like that, it takes tons and tons of energy. And where do you get all that, hmm?”

     Shira chuckled. “The sun, Doctor. All the energy we need we can get from a few minutes of tanning.” The Time Lord frowned, hoping it would have been something more complicated then that. “We build up all the energy we need, then we don't even need the sun, we just use the energy we have reserved inside. Hence why we were able to change in order to take you, then change back.”

     The Time Lord blinked a few times. “...right. Still, you've only got so much reserve energy, what happens when it runs out?”

     “We simply stand in the sunlight again,” the woman said with a smirk. “Face it, Doctor, there is no way to stop us from taking over this planet.”

     The goofy Time Lord mask was gone. The Doctor stared solemnly at Shira, dark anger boiling underneath. “And how many people have you killed after you've stolen their identities? How many more will you kill before this is over?”

     Shira's smirk grew wider at the question, eyes gleaming with malice. “As many as it takes,” she hissed.

     “Just for one family to get their throne back?” he asked with disgust. “Now I definitely can't let that happen. I _will_ stop you.”

     “How, Doctor?” Shira asked with a chuckle. “You can't even stay awake long enough to escape.” The same strange hum from earlier sounded from her throat, blotting out his senses and making everything seem warm and fuzzy. He tried harder to suppress it this time, fighting hard against the darkness, but eventually it took over, his consciousness drifting away again.

     The last thing he heard was Shira exiting the room and ordering someone, “Keep an eye on him. Every time he wakes up, put him back to sleep again, until we can figure out what to do with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, all of the chapters of this episode have turned out way shorter than I usually write chapters. I usually get to 3000 words or more, but I've been somewhere in the 2000 word mark this whole episode. But there were four parts instead of three, which I hope makes up for it, and this story arc is a two-parter! The next episode will be posted soon, and I hope everyone enjoyed this one.
> 
> Again, read "The Lost Crown" by Sarah Miller 'cause it's fantastic, and I got a lot of help from JiordanoAsya of Fanfiction.net. Also, is anyone else completely terrified of the season finale tomorrow? I am not emotionally prepared for this.


	34. The Revolution's Overthrow: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly tries to figure out how to find and save the Doctor.

     Molly's sudden feeling of confidence about saving the Doctor didn't actually lead to any great insights of _how_ to save the Doctor. Still, she'd decided to follow the Doctor's usual form of plan; jump in blindly until you figure out enough to actually make a plan.

     After the incident with the sonic screwdriver, security was tightened, with more guards making rounds by the Tsar's room. With her disguise of a woman from the government, Molly was able to move freely around the house, but the Romanovs weren't, and she couldn't leave them, it wasn't safe. If what Nicholas and Aleksei said about the shapeshifters was true, then they probably thought the Romanovs knew too much. The whole family was a loose end the shapeshifters would probably kill to keep from telling their secret. As much as Molly hated it, she knew it was imperative this family not be killed before the proper time.

     The only problem was, the longer Molly spent with this family, the harder it was to simply accept their fate. The girls especially were growing on her. They were nothing like what she would imagine princesses of a great nation to be. They were down-to-earth, and _real,_ with real personalities and loyalty to their country, and love for each other. Normally, she would never doubt the Doctor, but now she found herself searching her mind for anything at all that could save this poor family. There had to be a way, there was always a way. No matter how hard it got, she and the Doctor always found a wacky, brilliant way to save the world. Why couldn't that be true now? Why couldn't she save them? The idea of just giving up lives went against everything the Doctor had taught her, everything she believed. It just felt all wrong.

     It was too risky to leave the Romanovs for the present, so instead Molly settled for getting as much information about the shapeshifters as she could. She drilled Nicholas and Aleksei about everything they'd heard the Doctor and the shapeshifter say to each other. There had to be something in there, some hint of how to beat them.

     Unfortunately, what they had to offer was scant at best. As far as she could gather, there was more than one shapeshifter, possibly quite a few, and they were hiding among the guards and maids of the house. Nicholas said he was sure he would be able to recognize the shapeshifter they'd seen if he saw it again, but he didn't know the guard's name, and there was no telling whether he'd already changed form or not.

     Molly tried to keep the frustration from her voice as she summarized, “So all that we know for certain is that the shapeshifters took the Doctor because he knows too much, and that they'll be after you next.” Nicholas shrugged helplessly, letting out a weary sigh. They'd been over the same information again and again, and nothing was becoming any clearer. The fear was clearly starting to wear on the family, and she didn't blame them.

     She looked down at her feet, ready to sigh herself, when an idea suddenly occurred to her. She stiffened, the beginnings of a plan forming in her head. Slowly, she said, “They'll come after you. The aliens will come after you.”

     Nicholas's brow furrowed at her tone. “Yes, that's what we've been saying, isn't it?”

     She looked up sharply, expression slowly turning into a grin. “Then we can use that. We'll set a trap. If they want you and Aleksei, we can use that to draw them out.”

     Nicholas narrowed his eyes, voice suddenly sharp as he said, “You're not using my son as bait.”

     Molly's grin just grew. “Not quite,” she told him confidently. “All we need to do is distract them, then we can get them to talk. And I know just how to do that.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     The guard seemed surprised when she said to let the Romanovs lock the door behind them after she left, but she didn't want to risk the shapeshifters getting there while she was gone. As an extra precaution, she asked the guard to stay outside the door. There wasn't any guarantee he wasn't an alien, of course, but the door was locked, and she would be back in a few minutes.

     Molly was allowed to forgo a guard escort as she made her way to Yurovsky's office. She wondered ruefully if it was because she was a woman; time travel was wonderful, but visiting the past often meant dealing with bigotry and sexism. The worst of it had been those three months in Civil War America, but everywhere they went, there were little reminders of it. She could deal with it, but it still wasn't fun.

     She knocked on the door to his office. When a stiff “Come in,” issued from inside, she let herself in. The commandant was sitting behind his desk, intently focused on some papers in front of him, completely ignoring Molly. The pathologist stopped in front of his desk, once again adopting the cool demeanor from before, the eerily Sherlockian mask. In a clipped tone she told him, “Yurovsky, tonight the Romanovs will all be required to sleep in the Grand Duchesses' room.”

     The commandant looked up sharply, suspicion flaring in his eyes. “I don't see why that could possibly be necessary,” he said stiffly.

     Molly crossed her arms in front of her chest, coolly regarding the man in front of her. “That's not really your concern, commandant,” she told him curtly. Without any further explanation, she whirled around and started off towards the door. “Inform your guards that there will be no need to check on the Tsar's room tonight.”

     “Citizen Hooper!” Molly halted, but didn't turn to face Yurovsky as he continued, “I'm not sure what you and the Doctor are up to, but if it in any way jeopardizes the mission at hand, I won't hesitate to stop you. I have my orders.”

     He didn't say it, but Molly could hear the underlying threat; I don't trust you, and I don't believe you're who you say. The pathologist knew that their disguise wouldn't hold up much longer; if she didn't find the Doctor and the aliens soon and got them out of there, they'd have Yurovsky to deal with.

     Molly turned her head slightly to glare back at Yurovsky. “Watch your step, commandant,” she told him coolly. “I'm still your superior.” With that, she turned and waltzed out of the room, letting out a breath as the door closed behind her. She was walking a very fine line with Yurovsky, and she knew it. If she wasn't careful, they'd be found out too soon. Then she'd have more than just finding and saving the Doctor to worry about.

**SCENEBREAK**

     That night, the Romanovs all gathered in the Grand Duchesses' room long enough to convince the guards that that's where they'd be staying all night. When the hallway was cleared of guards, Molly hurried the family back into the Tsar's room. The trap was set; Yurovsky would have informed all the guards that the family was in the Grand Duchesses' room, and if any shapeshifters came after them tonight, that's where they'd go. Now all they could do was wait.

     After a few hours they'd finally convinced Aleksei and Maria to get some sleep, and Olga had drifted off a few minutes ago. Tatiana insisted on staying awake and looking after her mother, though Molly could see the tiredness in her eyes. Alexandra's steely Empress demeanor had faded, to be replaced by a weary, fearful woman, terrified of the unknown. She was gripping her daughter's hand so tightly that her knuckles were bone white. Molly was impressed with how patient and soothing Tatiana was with her mother, but she felt bad for the Grand Duchess as well, having to comfort her mother in her fear instead of it being the other way around.

     Nicholas, who waited by the door with Molly, seemed like the calm center of the family, but Molly could tell that he was scared and confused and wasn't sure what to do. This man was never meant to be a ruler, but no matter his faults in that department, she had to acknowledge that he was a great father. He was staying strong for his family, doing what needed to be done to protect them, and hiding his own insecurities.

     It was late into the night when their waiting finally paid off. There was a gentle _creak_ as the door handle to the room beside them was turned. Molly and Nicholas tensed, Alexandra and Tatiana looking up sharply from across the room. Anastasia gently shook her brother and sister awake, gesturing for them to keep silent.

     Silently as she could manage, Molly opened the door and peeked out. A man, one of the guards, was pushing the Grand Duchesses' door open. She felt a rush of anger when she saw the glint of a blade in his hand. These aliens would murder children in the night to keep themselves hidden.

     As the creature entered the room more deeply, Molly and Nicholas quickly followed him, slamming the door shut behind them. The guard whirled around, letting out an angry hiss at the sight of Molly and Nicholas. He moved to attack them, but Nicholas blocked his wild blow, knocking the blade out of his hand. The guard reeled back, glaring at Nicholas with an angry hiss. He moved to attack again.

     Molly stepped forward quickly. “Enough!” she snapped loudly. The guard turned to look at her, anger blazing in his eyes, but having paused his attack. The pathologist told him firmly, “Make a single sound, and I'll tell the guards you tried to help the Romanovs escape. You'll be executed. Do you really want to risk that?” She was bluffing, of course – she wouldn't be seen as a credible source for revealing treachery for long – but it seemed to convince the guard, who stepped back, glaring at Molly and Nicholas as he sat down on one of the cots.

     In a strange, alien tone, he asked, “What do you want?”

     Molly slowly crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring coolly at the alien in front of her. Nicholas had gone to guard the door, leaving her to deal with the politics. “Some answers,” she said.

     The guard let out a cold chuckle, an eerie, high-pitched sound. “Answers don't come free, my friend,” he taunted.

     The pathologist raised an eyebrow. “Well, I'd say your life earns at least a few answers,” she commented.

     “Depends on the question,” the guard replied.

     “Let's start with something simple then. What's your name?”

     The guard's lips quirked into a little cruel smirk. “Taark,” he finally answered. “Crown Prince Taark.”

     The prince bit came as a surprise, but Molly ran with it. “Prince of what?”

     “The Khaynen race,” he answered.

     “And are you here representing the Khaynen race, or are you here alone?”

     Taark just smirked smugly at her. “That's going to cost a little more, sweetie” he informed her smoothly.

     Molly felt a pang of disappointment, but pushed it back, continuing to stare evenly at Taark. “Fine then. Just one more question. Where is the Doctor?”

     Taark just glared up at her, sneering, “The Doctor? Doctor who?” Molly’s eyes narrowed, frustration thrumming inside her, but it was clear they weren’t getting any more out of the Khaynen this way.

     She tried switching tactics. The pathologist dropped the cool demeanor, softening her tensed posture and leaning forward with a sympathetic smile. “Taark, the Doctor and I have a spaceship. We can take you and your friends somewhere else. Anywhere at all in the universe, somewhere to make a new start, somewhere _uninhabited._ ” She stressed the last word, making it clear she wasn’t just trading Earth so they could go take over some other planet.

     Taark narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, his sneer becoming replaced by a calculating look. “Anywhere at all?” he finally asked. Molly could see greed glittering in his eyes and felt a rush of dread. This one was not to be trusted.

     She forced a smile and agreed, “Yes, anywhere.” Whatever got him to talk. This alien had kidnapped the Doctor and would have murdered a thirteen-year-old to keep himself hidden. She wasn’t going to feel too bad if she ended up relying on exact words when it came to “anywhere.”

     The alien’s smirk returned, though it appeared to be trying for agreeable instead of smug. “Very well.” He leaned back, sharp gaze flicking from Molly to the Tsar. “The only ones here are us, the royal family. My parents, the Empress and Emporer, and my brothers and sisters. Most of them are hidden among the guards here.”

     “And you're here to take over the planet, right?” Molly asked wryly.

     He shrugged with a cold chuckle. “Isn't that always the way? Royalty means greed and politics, sweetheart. The only thing to aim for is more.”

     Molly wasn’t sure how long the alien’s talkative mood would last, so she jumped right in with the question she really wanted the answer to. “And the Doctor? Where’s he?”

     The crown prince shook his head with a smirk. “Not so fast. Show us your spaceship, prove you can really move us off this planet, then we’ll talk.”

     Molly felt a pang of anxiety, but forced herself to ignore it, nodding slowly. “I’ll need to think about it,” she told the alien. Taark stared unblinkingly at her, lips quirked up into a smug smirk. She turned and headed for the door, not turning back to the alien as she said, “We’ll be right outside the door.”

     She and Nicholas exited the room, closing the door quietly behind them. They shared a quick, anxious look, both silently worrying about the alien they'd just left, before Nicholas finally spoke. “Were you telling the truth about that spaceship?” he asked in a low whisper. Molly was fairly sure Taark couldn't hear them from inside the room, but it was safe to be sure.

     “Yes,” she told him, “but I can't let them on the TARDIS, she's the most powerful ship in the universe. If they take over her they'll be unstoppable.”

     The former Tsar raised his eyebrows at her description of the ship, but didn't comment, instead saying, “So clearly that's not an option. Now what?”

     Molly gave a frustrated sigh. “I'm not sure,” she admitted. “We know what they are and why they're here, and we've got to stop them somehow, but I don't know how.” She felt a brief rush of panic, her earlier confidence dwindling. What was she doing? She wasn't cut out for leadership, she wasn't the Time Lord who could call up species and weaknesses in his mind in a snap. Who was she to try and save these people.

     Then she shook her head. She was someone who cared, that was who, and she'd been in situations like this countless times before. So what if the Doctor wasn't with her this time? She'd gotten through this kind of situation before, and she'd do it again.

     She straightened, turning calmly to Nicholas. “Let's block the door and go talk to your family. After that, we'll see what happens.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, alright, I'm so sorry about the wait. It actually wasn't school this time, it was just how hard this chapter was to write. I was having as much trouble as Molly trying to figure out how she's going to save the Doctor. ^^
> 
> More to come later, again, sorry for the lateness and the shortness.
> 
> Also, that season finale. WOW THAT WAS SAD BUT AWESOME AND WAY BETTER THAN ANY OF THE OTHER EPISODES THIS SEASON. Message me if you want to talk about it. :)


	35. The Revolution's Overthrow: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and the Romanovs try to figure out what to do with the Khaynen.

     After blocking off the door, Molly and Nicholas retreated back into the former Tsar’s room. They were nearly caught by a passing guard, who asked suspiciously why they were changing rooms in the middle of the night, but Molly was able to deter his suspicions. She claimed that the Tsarveich had woken up and said he was thirsty and they were on their way to get him water. The guard rolled his eyes and grumbled that he’d get someone else to get it for him, and that the Tsar wasn’t supposed to be out of his room, before storming off. Molly let out a breath of relief that they’d managed to fool him, but she knew they couldn’t keep it up for long.

     When they finally got inside the Tsar’s room, the rest of the family was waiting anxiously inside, looking up immediately when they came in. “What happened?” Anastasia asked immediately.

     “Did you get the alien?” Aleksei asked almost over top of his sister. He seemed to have gotten over the earlier fright of the Doctor being taken, and was full of childish eagerness and excitement again.

     Nicholas nodded wearily. “Yes, we got it,” he told his son. The former Tsar crossed the room to sit on the bed, suddenly looking older and more tired. Not like the Doctor, a man being crushed by the weight of his past, but like a man who’s been put in charge for too long and isn’t sure how to go on.

     Molly decided to spare him and take over for a bit. “Now we just need to figure out what to do with it.” Quickly she related everything that Taark had told them, and what she had offered him in return, concluding, “He won’t tell us where the Doctor is until he’s seen the TARDIS, but I can’t let him near her.”

     Olga looked thoughtful. “We could just search the house for your friend,” she pointed out.

     “That would take too long,” Molly argued, “and the guards would get suspicious. There’s got to be a way to get Taark to tell us.”

     The family looked at each other in baffled confusion. Tentatively, Maria suggested, “Tell him you need the Doctor to access your ship?”

     Molly thought about it for a moment. It wasn’t a bad idea, and it was worth a shot. “That could work, thanks Maria.” She straightened, turning back to the Tsar. “Nicholas, let’s go talk to him again. Maybe we can get the Doctor’s location from him this time. First though, I think it'll help if I can find out more about him, so I'll see if I can get him to show me his true form.” Nicholas and Aleksei had only gotten a quick look at the aliens, and their description had been less than detailed. If she saw the true form of the Khaynen for herself, she might get a better idea of how to beat them, if necessary.

     The two turned and headed out the door and back toward the Grand Duchesses' room. Before they could reach the door, they were met by one of the kitchen staff, who gruffly handed her the glass of water she'd requested and stormed off. Molly grasped the glass uncertainly, the glass surface icy to the touch, before shrugging and taking it into the room with her.

     Taark still sat on one of the cots, watching them enter with the same sneer. Molly approached him confidently, trying to mask the uncertainty over her bluff. “Taark,” she greeted calmly, “We'll discuss taking you to the ship, but first things first. It's rude discussing business in a disguise, don't you think?”

     He blinked in surprise, looking at Molly with a raised eyebrow. Then he gave a slight nod. Slowly, he began to change, pale skin hardening to black scales, brown eyes widening and turning smoky gray, pupils and white irises disappearing completely. There was a wave of heat from the creature as he changed, like Nicholas and Aleksei had described from their encounter, then it was over.

     The alien's true form was slightly taller than a human, with slimmer limbs and a lean form. His entire body was covered in sleek black scales, like snakeskin, but smaller, with long, slim fingers that ended in claws. His face was scrunched up like a bat's, with two great horns sprouting from his head, several smaller ones running down the ridge of his back. His eyes were wide gray orbs, the pupils just barely visible, slightly darker patches of gray. The guard uniform had vanished, replaced by a sleek gray athletic suit of sorts.

     Nicholas started at the sight of the alien, but Molly remained unfazed, staring coolly at the Khaynen. She didn't recognize the alien from anywhere, but maybe something she saw would give her a hint of weakness or anything that could be used to get the Doctor back.

     Taark's voice seemed even more metallic now as he said, “Very well, human, I am demasked. Now we can talk.” There was a mocking edge to his tone, cruel amusement in his eyes.

     Molly opened her mouth to make her offer - only to be cut off by a slight sound. The turning of the doorknob next door, at the Tsar's room. Molly and Nicholas both froze, sharing a quick, panicked glance. No one should be entering or leaving that room.

     That sound was followed by light scuffling sounds, making up Molly's mind. "Stay here, she told Taark firmly, then whirled around and bolted for the door. She felt a brief rush of annoyance when she noticed Nicholas following her - now who would watch Taark and make sure he stayed put? - but she knew that if his family was really in danger, she couldn't well expect him to sit back and do nothing.

     They burst into the Tsar's room, greeted by the sight of two Khaynens in true form with the rest of the family. Anastasia and Tatiana were standing protectively in front of the rest of the family. Alexandra and Olga seemed to be frozen in shock, and Maria was shielding Aleksei. The aliens were crouching forward, shoulders tensed and sharp teeth bared. No one seemed to be injured yet, as Molly noted as her gaze swept over the room.

     "Hey!" she called out as loudly as she dared. It was the middle of the night, but there could still be guards to hear them. The two Khaynens wheeled around to face her, snarling fiercely at her. She and Nicholas stood firmly in front of the door, unarmed but now more completely outnumbering the aliens. In a sharp voice she ordered, "Leave them alone."

     The aliens' lips pulled back, teeth bared in cruel grins. One spoke in a higher voice in Taark's, probably female. "They will be silenced," she purred smoothly, "and so must you."

     She lunged straight at Molly, her fellow going for Nicholas. The Doctor abhorred violence of any kind, but that didn't mean he was against letting his companions learn how to defend themselves. Molly jumped back out of her range, circling around quickly to stand in front of the Romanovs. The Khaynen gave a frustrated hiss, swiping with extended claws at Molly, who blocked the blow with her arm. She wasn't quick enough to fend off the next blow. Claws sliced down her shoulder, causing her to jerk back with a cry of pain.

     As she did, the glass of water in her hand was jerked violently, the contents splashing out towards the Khaynen. There was a slight sizzling sound as the cold water hit her scales, and the creature let out a shriek of pain. Molly clutched her now-bleeding shoulder, waiting for the next attack, but the Khaynen seemed a little disoriented now, gray eyes blinking uncertainly.

     After a few moments, the creature moved to attack again, only to pause as Alexandra and Olga stepped up beside Molly, fully out of their momentary funks. Nicholas had warded off his Khaynen long enough to join them, with Anastasia and Tatiana moving in to close the ranks, a firm wall blocking Maria and Aleksei. The Khaynens hung back, uncertain.

     Molly held her head up, glaring evenly at the aliens. "There's only two of you," she pointed out coldly. "You won't win this fight easily, and the guards will be around to make their rounds soon. What happens to your little take-over plot when you're found standing over our bodies, hmm?"

     The Khaynens paused, sharing a quick glance before starting to change. In a few moments, two guards stood before them instead of two aliens. They glared at the Romanovs with ugly sneers, backing away towards the door. "We'll be back," one warned in an ugly snarl before the two slipped out past the door, shutting it sharply behind them.

     The family all sighed in relief, but Molly just stared at the glass in her hand, her thoughts whirling. Cold water had disoriented the Khaynen, had made it stop in its tracks, if only for a few moments. And she'd felt heat coming off Taark when he'd transformed, almost as though it had cost energy - energy in the form of heat. That was it! That was their weakness! And that was how she would beat them.

     The companion was so caught up in her thoughts, it took her a minute to realize her name was being called. "Molly!" She snapped her head around, startled, to see Tatiana staring at her shoulder. "You're bleeding," she observed with concern.

     Molly had forgotten the wound in her sudden rush of inspiration, but now the pain rushed back into the cuts, shoulder burning like fire. She winced, clutching her shoulder with one hand. After a few moments, the pain dulled, if only slightly. "I'm fine," she assured the Grand Duchess through gritted teeth. She had never been injured this badly in any of her TARDIS travels, but the pain wasn't intolerable.

     Tatiana narrowed her eyes, looking unimpressed. She grabbed Molly by the other arm, dragging her towards the bed. "Come on," she said firmly, "you're not doing anyone any good while you're injured." She forced Molly to sit, then she and Alexandra took a quick look at her wound. Tatiana frowned. "You'll need stitches," she informed the pathologist, "but I don't have anything to use."

     "It's fine," Molly assured her. "I'm fine for now, it'll just have to wait until I get back on the TARDIS."

     The Grand Duchess pursed her lips, clearly dying to help Molly but aware there was nothing she could do. "Fine," she finally conceded, "but as soon as you can, get stitches."

     "Meanwhile," Alexandra proposed briskly, "lets get it cleaned and wrapped up."

     Mother and daughter set immediately to work, using the rest of Molly's water to clean the wound, then getting a swath of clean sheet and wrapped it tightly around her shoulder. The Tsarina's uncertainty and weariness melted away, replaced by a cool, confident professionalism. She and Tatiana worked briskly, neither breathing a word as they dealt with the wound. Molly was impressed, especially since both had seemed so tired and defeated earlier.

     When they were done, she slipped her jacket back over the wrapping, hiding it as best could. It still burned like anything, but it would do for the present. "Thanks," she told the mother and daughter gratefully. "You two could really be doctors."

     Alexandra just smiled tiredly, but Tatiana seemed to brighten at her comment, basking just a little in the praise.

     Molly leaned forward, switching back to the line of thought she'd had before the interruption. "Listen, when we were fighting the Khaynens, I noticed something. You said you felt heat flooding off the one you saw transform?"

     Nicholas nodded, looking puzzled. "Yes, and from Taark too."

     "And when I spilled cold water on the one we were fighting, she seemed disoriented." Molly grinned, confidence in her theory building. "Listen, I'm willing to bet these aliens use heat as energy, like plants, drawing heat from the sun in order to grow. Transforming requires a lot of energy, so it uses up a lot of heat, and forcing cooler temperatures on them seems to take away their energy."

     The former Tsar frowned. "Alright, seems logical. But what good is that?"

     Molly ignored the question, turning to Alexandra and the girls. "Is there a kitchen here?" she asked urgently.

     They looked surprised at the question, but after a moment, they nodded. "What do you need from there?" Maria asked curiously.

     The pathologist's grin grew. "Ice," she answered. "Lots and lots of ice, and water. If we can get these aliens cold enough to knock them out, we can get them safely off-planet."

     Aleksei, who had wheeled up to join his siblings, frowned. "But what about the Doctor?"

     "I'll try to get them to tell me first. And of course, I'll try to warn them off before I do anything. Everyone deserves a chance. But if they don't tell me, I'm sure he'll be able to find his way out once there aren't aliens guarding him."

     The family shared uncertain glances. Nicholas finally spoke up, asking Molly bluntly, "Is this really going to work?"

     Molly remembered all the times she'd been forced to take charge since she started traveling with the Doctor. She remembered Hooverville, and Frank's death. But she'd been right then, and she was right now, she was sure. If the Doctor followed any sort of philosophy, it was to follow your instincts, and you'd be okay in the end. She had to trust herself to be right.

     "It will," she promised the former Tsar.

     Nicholas gave her an evaluating look for a few moments before nodding, uncertainty fading into respect. "Very well, miss Hooper. Let's get started, then."

**SCENEBREAK**

     Back in the Grand Duchesses' room, Molly was surprised to see Taark still sitting patiently on the cot, sharp teeth pulled back in the same smirk. She approached, eyebrows raised. "You're still here then," she commented lightly. "Didn't you hear the commotion next door? Two of your friends could've used your help over there."

     Taark shrugged, unconcerned. "I've got no reason to leave," he told her. "I've got a sweet deal waiting for me right here."

     Molly sat on the cot across from him, studying his expression thoughtfully. "They might not appreciate this deal as much as you seem to," she suggested.

     "It's a good deal, they'll see reason," Taark said confidently. "And if not, well, maybe it's time someone new made decisions for this family."

     Molly raised an eyebrow, but before she could question him further, Nicholas addressed the alien for the first time. "And what if any of your family refuses to leave?" His voice was filled with quiet disgust, gaze dark as he glared at the alien. "You'll just leave them here to rot? Your own family?"

     Taark grinned wider, a shark's grin. "Greed and politics, my friend. That's all there is to it."

     Molly saw Nicholas tense with anger, and decided to intervene before things got ugly. "Alright, Taark, listen." The alien turned to her, brows raised in invitation. "We'll show you to the ship, but I need assurance you're not just going to have your family kill us the moment you're onboard."

     "What kind of assurance?" Taark asked.

     "Your family," Molly told him bluntly. "All of them, here, in the Tsar's room, tomorrow night. You can go and bring them here." She wasn't sure about this part of her plan, but Taark really seemed interested in the TARDIS, so he would probably stick to his word.

     Taark looked surprised for a moment, then grinned even wider. "No need. I can call them from here, little trick of the Khaynens." He reached out a hand, which Molly accepted and shook. The alien tipped his head slightly. "So, we have a deal?"

     Molly nodded. "We have a deal," she echoed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for ya. 
> 
> I am so freaking close to being done with High School. I've finished all my exams, all I have left is an Awards Ceremony, where I'm apparently getting an award but I wasn't told what kind, and Graduation itself. Then I'll be able to update more frequently.


	36. The Revolution 's Overthrow: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly puts her plan into action.

     Now that there was a plan in place, the whole family was finally able to get some sleep. Nicholas, Molly, and Tatiana switched off staying awake to guard the door – even locked, there was a chance the Khaynens could get in again, and Molly didn't want to take any chances. Still, she was able to grab a few hours sleep between shifts, and she had the feeling the Romanovs had all needed the sleep too.

     The next morning, Molly pulled Maria aside and asked her to lead her to the kitchen. The pathologist didn't know her way around the house, and she'd need help carrying everything back to the room. Besides, Maria seemed the most friendly with the guards, even if she was forbidden to speak to them anymore. She'd attract the least attention, for now.  
     The Grand Duchess led her quickly to the kitchen. They were only stopped by one guard, who was quickly fended off by Molly's status as a government worker. Once there, they made straight for the ice. One little factoid she'd forgotten about the time period was that the refrigerator hadn't become mainstream yet. Large blocks of ice were kept in an old-fashioned icebox. They had to chisel away chunks of it small enough to carry away, using large buckets found in the kitchen that were then filled with water.

     Collecting enough water took several trips that were spaced out throughout the day to keep the guards from getting suspicious. Even so, they were questioned several times about transporting buckets of water to and from the kitchen, but each time Molly waved it off or coldly told them to get lost. It worked, but Molly got the feeling her authority was rapidly wearing thin.

     Over the course of the day, they were able to gather eight full buckets of ice and water, sometimes going back to the kitchen to get more ice when what they had had melted. By evening, they had eight ice-cold buckets of water, with each Romanov and Molly tensed and ready to reach one and throw it's contents at the nearest alien. Even Aleksei had a bucket hidden beside his wheelchair, ready to be reached at a moment's notice. They were ready. All that was needed now was the aliens.

     Nicholas and Molly went once again to the Grand Duchesses' room. Taark was sitting on one of the cots, flipping nonchalantly through a book. He looked up with an eyebrow raised. “Yes, miss Hooper?” he asked airily.

     “You said you can call your family from here?” The crown prince smirked and nodded. “Then do it, now. Tell them to meet us in the Tsar's room.”

     Taark shook his head. “I can't make a call that specific,” he told her. “All I can say is something like, 'Come now, danger.' They'll get the idea better if I make it from the right room.”

     Molly shook her head. “This room's close enough. We'll leave you here, and when they get here, lead them into the Tsar's room.”

     The Khaynen nodded. “Fair enough.” He paused, mouth opening slightly, throat constricting, though no sound came out. After a few moments he shook his head slightly. “There. Humans don't seem to be able to hear it, so it'll just be the family coming. You better be ready, miss Hooper.” There was a mocking light in his eyes. Molly knew he thought he was two steps ahead of them. She could only hope her plan worked, or else they were dead, because no matter what she could never give them the TARDIS.

     Molly nodded. "Good. Just wait in here 'til they get here, then." Though her voice stayed even, she felt a tremor of fear in her heart. She was risking all of their lives, and subsequently the fate of the universe, and now her plan couldn't be stopped no matter what. They were coming, and they could only pray her plan would work.

**SCENEBREAK**

     She and Nicholas retreated back into his room, where the rest of the family waited. They slipped quietly back into their positions, Molly filing in between Maria and Alexandra. They formed a line in front of the bed, each with a bucket hidden behind them, easily reached and hidden from sight. Molly only hoped she was right about their effect on the Khaynens.

     Maria gave the pathologist a weak smile, eyes glittering with worry. Molly knew the family was placing their lives in her hands, even though they barely knew her. Add to that the alien nature of the threat and it was no wonder they were scared. Without a word, she reached out and grabbed Maria's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

     They weren't kept waiting long. Only a few minutes had passed when they heard the turn of the doorknob from the room beside them, and the sound of hushed voices. Molly tensed, feeling Maria's grip on her hand become viselike.

     After a few moments, the door before them began to open slowly. One by one, the Khaynens filed in, all in black, scaly form. Taark was the last in, six of his fellows before him. He closed the door, leaving them trapped in a room with seven Khaynens.

     There was a long, tense silence. Molly could hear a slight whimper from Maria, and she could see fear in the eyes of all the Romanovs, even Nicholas, though he tried to hide it. Molly felt her heart pounding hard, not from fear for herself, but for the family she'd dragged into this battle.

     Finally, one of the Khaynens spoke, head lowering as her gray gaze swept almost lazily over the family. “Which of you is leader of these humans?” The alien's voice was higher, female, with a cool, confident edge to it. She watched them unblinkingly, head swaying ever so slightly in an almost reptilian fashion.

     Molly snuck a quick look at Nicholas, who after all had once been Tsar of the largest country in Europe. He noticed her glance and dipped his head slightly. Giving her the authority. Acknowledging her right to it. Swallowing back the last of her uncertainty, Molly stepped forward, staring firmly at the Khaynen. “I am,” she told them coolly.

     The Khaynen's gaze fixed sharply on Molly. In an almost bored tone, she told Molly, “I am Shira, Empress of the Khaynen race. My son Taark tells me you have an offer we would be foolish to pass up. Please tell me I am not wasting my time with this.”

     Molly took a moment to compose herself, then slowly began, “I am a companion of the Doctor.” She saw a ripple pass through the group of Khaynens, a low hiss at the sound of their prisoner's name. After observing their reaction warily a moment, she continued, “We've come here to offer you a deal. We're rather fond of Earth, you see, and we'd rather not see it taken over by a bunch of renegade aliens. So we're here to offer you transport off Earth. We have a ship that can take you anywhere in the universe, somewhere you can make a fresh start. But first, you have to tell me where the Doctor is.”

     Shira narrowed her eyes, a sharp edge to her voice as she told Molly, “We do not require a fresh start. We require our planet, and the forces necessary to recapture it.”

     “Your planet?” Molly repeated in surprise. The real story began to fall into place for her. “Wait, so you're not here to help your planet capture mine, you're here to use mine to get yours back. You're here alone, and you're going to use the human race as soldiers in your war.” She'd thought they were trying to capture Earth for its own sake, but all they wanted humans for was soldiers. She hadn't realized the family was working for itself rather than for its race. “Is that what this is about? Reclaiming your throne? Using the Earth as soldiers in some long and pointless coup?”

     The Empress let out a noise like a snort, lips pulling back to show sharp teeth. “Don't think you can sway me with lectures of morality. I will have as many humans killed as it takes to give us our throne back.”

     The pathologist narrowed her eyes slightly at that, but decided to leave it for now. “Alright. How about your people, then? Hmm? Humans may be scum or stupid apes or whatever you want to call us, but how many Khaynen lives are you willing to go through to get your bloody throne back?” She shifted her gaze to each Khaynen in turn, even as they stared stonily back at her. “If you do this, you'll be causing the deaths of plenty of your own species. Is that really what you want. A long, bloody climb to the top?”

     Shira let out a hiss, eyes flashing dangerously. “I want my throne back,” she hissed fiercely. “I want my power back, and I want my planet back. And I don't _care_ who has to fall to get me there.” She turned to her son, letting out a sharp snarl. “You were foolish to cooperate with these humans, Taark. They have seen too much, and they must die.” The Romanovs flinched back at her words, eyes all flicking to Molly.

     Taark stared evenly back at his mother, wearing the same smirk he'd used on Molly. “Their offer had merit, Mother,” he said coolly. “With their ship we can take over any planet we want, planets far superior to Shyklen. We can be rulers of far greater worlds.”

     “That is not for you to decide,” Shira rebuked sharply. A low growl rumbled in her throat as she bared her teeth at her son, who had the good sense to flinch slightly away. “Our family _will_ be returned to our rightful place in Shyklen. I am still the Empress, the ruler, and you _will_ obey my authority.”

     “Your _authority,_ ” Taark spat scornfully, “was taken away by the rebels of Shyklen. You're nothing but a deposed ruler. Perhaps it's time for youth and ingenuity to come to power.”

     Shira jerked her head back, growl rising in volume. She and Taark faced off with bared teeth and sharpened claws, tension sparking between them. Molly felt like they were minutes from going for each others' throats. The rest of the Khaynens didn't interfere. They just stood and watched as two members of their family got ready to battle it out. Molly felt sick at the idea. What kind of family was that?

     She took a single step forward, raising her voice sharply. “Enough!” The two Khaynens looked at her, still ruffled but tempers slightly cooled. In a more normal tone, she continued, “Alright, you don't care about the people you hurt. How about yourselves?” She grew solemn, her tone becoming sharper, more dangerous. “See, the Doctor and me, this is what we do. We stop people like you. Defending the Earth, protecting innocents, that sort of thing. And we're not going to let you take over Earth. We'll stop you, whatever it takes, and you'll be left with nothing. Do you really want that? I'm offering you a way out."

     The mood of the Khaynens went from aggressive to amused, teeth all pulled back to cruelly amused grins. "Stop us?" Shira repeated scornfully. "How? The Doctor is our prisoner."

     Molly felt a surge of anger at their flippancy, on top of their treatment of her friend. "Then I'll stop you," she shot back without hesitation. "Whatever happens next is your own fault if you don't listen to me now. I'm offering you an out. Will you take it?"

     Shira eyed Molly with cold amusement, a low growl thrumming in her chest. "Never," she hissed. "Earth will be ours, and no human will stand in our way." She and her fellows began slowly advancing towards the Romanovs, teeth bared and growling. "And now, it is time for you to die, the first of many to fall for our victory."

     Molly knew they couldn't wait any longer. "Now!" She and the Romanovs whirled around to grab their buckets, hurling the contents at the Khaynens. There was a horrible sizzling sound, and several shrieks and screams of pain as the cold water made contact with their scales. To Molly's surprise, all seven Khaynens began rapidly changing, scales fading into human flesh and horns into hair. In a matter of moments, where seven Khaynens had once stood, seven humans were crumpled on the ground. But not just any seven humans.

     Nicholas took a shaky step forward, eyes wide with horror. "They're... they're _us,_ " he breathed in shock.

     The seven Khaynens had all taken the forms of the members of the Romanov family. Molly was pretty sure it was Taark who had become little Aleksei sprawled on the floor, and the others had become his sisters and parents, mirroring the family down to the clothes they were wearing. All were unconscious, moaning quietly in their sleeps, still shivering from the family's attack. All but one.

     Molly was pretty sure it was Shira who was glaring at her from the ground, wearing the body of Alexandra Romanov. "You tricked us!" she hissed furiously. The Empress tried to stand, but was barely strong enough to rise to a kneeling position. After a few moments she gave up, settling for glaring at Molly.

     The pathologist stared at the family in utter confusion. This was not something she had expected. "What...?" She looked down at Shira, eyes wide. "Why did you change into the Romanovs?"

     Shira let out a frustrated hiss. "It was a rushed job," she explained ruefully. "We used the closest DNA we could find, and the room's filled with theirs'. But that's easily fixed." She paused a moment, brow furrowed in concentration, but nothing happened. Her eyes widened. "I've no heat left to change. You stole my energy. I can't change!" Her voice rose with panic.

     Molly scrambled to get her thoughts back in order. Her plan had failed, they hadn't all been knocked out, and even in her weakened state Shira was too dangerous to bring into the TARDIS. Plus, they still didn't have the Doctor's location, so he couldn't go get the TARDIS and park it inside. They had no way of getting the Khaynens into the ship, and no way of searching for the Doctor while two sets of Romanovs could be discovered.

     Shira suddenly lifted her head, a shrewd light in her eyes. "Leave," she rasped.

     Molly blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

     "I said leave," the Empress repeated. "You wanted a deal? Leave now, and we won't come after you again. And take the Romanovs with you. We can't have our doubles wandering around." She suddenly smirked, confidence burning in her tone as she added, "These are the bodies of the rightful rulers of Russia. We can bring them back to power without the help of the Bolsheviks. Our plan is still in place, we'll just edit it slightly."

     Molly froze, horror and relief at war in her head. There was a way out for the Romanovs. Impossible and dangerous as it was, they had a way out. She could really, truly save them. But if she did, she would be abandoning the Khaynens to a horrible, brutal death, unable to warn them.

     She took a few steps forward, voice low, both hating and needing her next offer. "Shira, I'm giving you one more chance. Leave with me now, you will be stopped."

     Shira shook her head stubbornly. "Do your worst," she hissed.

     That settled it. Guilt still burned in Molly's chest, but she had this one, horrible chance to save an innocent family, and she was taking it. "Fine. We'll leave. We give up. Just tell me where the Doctor is, and give me back his sonic screwdriver."

     Shira told her where he was and tossed the metal rod towards Molly, who picked it up quickly. She gave the pathologist a queer smirk, cruel and condescending. "For all your talk of stopping us, look at you now, running. We will win the Earth, human. Just be glad we allowed you to live."

     Molly felt a pang of guilt. "You can try," she whispered.

     Done with the Khaynen, she turned to the terrified and confused Romanovs. "We're leaving here, now. Don't ask any questions. Leave Aleksei's wheelchair, just go to the girls' room and wait, I'll be back soon, just don't let anyone see you, okay?"

     Nicholas looked at Molly with wide eyes. "What's going on?" he asked in a slightly shaken tone.

     Molly looked at him for a moment, allowing her a bit of hot through her guilt. "You're escaping," she told the Tsar with a slight grin. Then she turned and hurried out past the door. She had to get to the Doctor before it was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys see that coming? I feel like that was too easy to see coming. But whatever, it's late and I'm too tired to think about it anymore. And yes, I've been planning this from the beginning.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who wished me luck for my awards ceremony. I got a Journalism award for working on the newspaper for three years, the last of which I served as both Features Editor and Co-Editor-in-Chief. My newspaper teacher was on stage and gave me a book, and I gave him a hug. He's one of my favorite teachers, and it was really sweet, but now I'm getting all sad because I've had his class since I was a sophomore and now I'll probably never see him again. :(
> 
> Anyway, I graduate tomorrow, schedule should clear soon and updates should be quicker. There's one more chapter to this episode, then back to canon episodes.


	37. The Revolution's Overthrow: Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly goes to find the Doctor.

     Molly hurried quickly to the closet Shira had indicated, still reeling from what had just happened. She had just messed with a fixed point in the biggest way possible. The Doctor probably wouldn't approve, he might not even go along with it. But she had to try.

     She finally reached the closet Shira had told her about. The door was locked, but a quick zap from the sonic screwdriver soon fixed that. Holding her breath, she slowly pushed the door open. "Doctor?"

     As light spilled into the room, she saw his still form sprawled on the ground. Relief at seeing him again rapidly faded into horror. "Doctor!" Molly hurried to his side, relaxing as she realized he was unconscious, not dead. She didn't have time to wait for him to wake, so she began shaking his shoulder, slowly at first, then faster. "Come on, Doctor, wake up!"

     The Time Lord started awake, shooting up to a sitting position. He turned to Molly with a confused expression that soon faded into a grin. "Molly! Come to save the Time Lord in distress, then?"

     Molly couldn't help but grin in relief. The Doctor was okay, the Romanovs were okay, and they were really getting out of here. "And more." As she and the Doctor rose to their feet, her tone became more urgent. "Doctor, listen, there's something I need you to do, and I don't have time to explain. You need to tell a guard to tell Yurovsky we're leaving, then get to the TARDIS and park it in the Grand Duchesses' room."

     The Time Lord's brow furrowed in confusion. "What? Why?" His eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"

     Molly shook her head. "There's no time, Doctor. You have to go now. Please, just trust me."

     The Doctor stared at her in baffled confusion a moment, then shook his head. "Right, ok. To the TARDIS then." He gave Molly a last confused glance, then hurried off.

     The pathologist let out the breath she'd been holding, then turned and headed back towards the Romanovs' room, hurrying as quickly as she could without seeming conspicuous.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Once back in the room, she was greeted by seven terrified Romanovs.

     "What's going on?"

     "What about those aliens?"

     "Are they going to come after us?"

     "Where are we going?"

     Molly hurried to assure them. "It's fine, everything's fine, you're getting out of here?"

     "How?" The question came from Nicholas, who looked scared even through his calm expression.

     She turned to him with a slight smile, relief mingling with anxiety. This could still go wrong. They could still be caught. "I mentioned before that we have a spaceship? It's of the disappear-and-reappear variety, and the Doctor's going to teleport it in here. You're getting out, Nicholas, you and your whole family. The Khaynens are giving you a way out without anyone ever knowing."

     Olga frowned. "But that alien, she said they'd use our bodies to take over Russia. We can't let them do that!”

     “Don't worry,” Molly said in a low voice, “they won't.”

     “But how do you know?” Anastasia pressed.

     Molly dodged the question, instead glancing around the room quickly before herding the family into a corner. “Come on, we need to leave room for the TARDIS to land, can't have her landing on us.”

     As they were hurried into the corner, Aleksei asked, “What about Dr. Botkin? And Nyuta? And Trupp?”

     Molly felt a flash of guilt. She wasn't sure of the specifics, but she did know that people besides the Romanovs, some of their servants, had also been assassinated alongside them. “We have to leave them,” she mumbled. “The Khaynens are only covering for you.”

     Nicholas frowned, expression suddenly becoming hard. “These people have followed us willingly into our exile,” he told Molly firmly. “They are as close as family. There is no way I'm leaving them behind. Not after everything they've done for us.”

     The pathologist put a hand on the former Tsar's shoulder, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “You have to,” she told him simply. “I'm so sorry, but it's them or your family. I'm giving you the chance to save your daughters, your son, your thirteen-year-old son. If there were any other way, but right now, you don't have a choice.”

     “Then we're not leaving.” Nicholas told her firmly. “We've been fine here for a year, we'll be fine longer. It's all of us or none.”

     Molly felt a rush of frustration. “You can't do that!”

     “Why not?” the former Tsar asked with frustration.

     “Because you'll die if you stay!”

     The words were met with a sudden silence. The family all slowly turned to her, all wearing matching expressions of horror. For a long time, no one spoke. Molly dropped her eyes guiltily. Finally, Aleksei spoke up in a small voice. “What?”

     Molly sighed, passing a hand over her face. For a moment, she wondered if this is what it felt like to be the Doctor. In a slow voice, she began to explain, “This ship, the Doctor's ship, it's a time machine too. We're from the future, and we've seen it. You and your family will die in four days' time if you stay here. There are orders from Moscow to kill you by firing squad. Normally, we stop things like that, me and the Doctor, but there are some things that just can't be changed, events that can't be touched. They _have_ to happen for universe to function. Your family's death is one of them.” She strode up to Nicholas, looking him calmly in the eyes. “Nicholas, there is just this one chance to save your family. We can't take everyone, you can never rule Russia again, and you can never be known as the Romanovs. It sucks, and I'm sorry, but that's how it is. Stay and die, or leave everything and everyone behind and live.”

     For a long time, no one spoke. The family all seemed overwhelmed by the options she'd presented, and the heavy price that came with each. Die a horrible death or abandon friends to the same death, leaving home behind forever. Each was wrapped up in their own thoughts and worries, each struggling with the terrible choice she'd given them. Then, one by one, the family members turned to each other. Looking at the ones they would be giving up if they stayed. Then, one by one, they joined hands, and turned as one to Molly. The whole family, hand in hand, each gave a nod of consent.

     Tatiana spoke for the whole family. “Together. We'll go together.”

     Molly gave a wide smile, warmed by the family's devotion to each other. It was human love, human devotion like this that made the Doctor so in awe of the human race. It was why they worked so hard to protect innocents.

     Before she could respond, a _vworp, vworp, vworp,_ rang through the room. She whirled around to watch a familiar blue box slowly materialize in the opposite corner. After the TARDIS finally solidified, the door swung open to reveal the Doctor. He grinned at Molly, only for his expression to become one of horror as he saw the Romanovs. His face closed off completely, eyes hardening. “What is this?” he asked Molly coolly.

     Molly shook her head urgently. “Not now, Doctor. I can explain later.”

     “Molly, we can't take them with us, you know that. I told you already – ”

     “Not now!” she snapped more firmly. The Doctor fell silent, but still looked unhappy. Molly stepped up to the TARDIS, looking the Time Lord right in the eyes. “Doctor, there's no time to explain. I've trusted you, so many times. I've always trusted you. So just this once, this one time, trust me.”

     The Doctor gave her an evaluating look, his eyes the eyes of a Time Lord, ancient and harsh. Many aliens far greater than little Molly Hooper had turned away from such a glare. Molly didn't flinch. For once, she knew she was right, and she wasn't letting the Time Lord abandon this family when there was still a way to save them.

     Finally, he flicked his eyes away. Without a word, he stepped out of the way, leaving the entrance to the TARIDS open. Molly felt a rush of relief. She turned back to the family, gesturing urgently. “Come on, quickly, guards could come in any minute.”

     Still looking wary, the Romanovs filed one by one into the TARDIS, followed by Molly, who closed the door behind them. While they gawked at the console room, she turned to the Doctor, who was still watching them with a carefully blank expression. “Quick, Doctor, send us into the Time Vortex. Then I can explain.”

     Without a word, the Time Lord made his way to the console, solemnly performing the flight sequence. With the usual violent shaking, which sent a few of the Romanovs tumbling to the ground, the TARDIS flew into the Vortex. Molly could see the Doctor relaxing slightly as they got farther from the fixed point, but he still seemed serious as he turned back to Molly. “Alright. Time to explain.”

     Molly snuck a quick glance at the family she had saved. Whatever came next, they were worth it. She launched into her explanation, starting from right when the Doctor was taken. The Time Lord listened with an unreadable expression, up until she mentioned the fight with the Khaynens. His eyes softened, concern evident in his expression. “You were injured?” he asked worriedly.

     The pathologist had almost forgotten about her shoulder. She'd been ignoring the pain all day, but lifting heavy buckets had taken it's toll, and now the pain had returned in the form of a burning ache. She shrugged. “Yeah, but it's fine.”

     For the first time, one of the Romanovs interrupted the conversation. “No, it's not fine.” Alexandra stepped forward, her steely Empress expression back in full force. “You promised you'd get stitches the first chance you got. Time to make good.”

     The Doctor's eyes widened. “Stitches?” he repeated anxiously. “You didn't say it was that bad.” He took in her expression, sighed, then grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the hallway. “Come on, you, med bay, now.”

     He led her, ignoring her protests, to the med bay, the Romanovs following silently. When they got there, she sat reluctantly on one of the tables, letting Tatiana and Alexandra get to work on her shoulder wound. As they worked, she continued her explanation, ending with the fate of the Khaynens and the choice they'd made. “The fixed point is still in place, Doctor. As long as there's a Romanov family to die, what does it matter that it's the right one?”

     The Time Lord's eyes had flashed with pain when he was told of the Khaynen's fate, but his disapproval had completely faded now that Molly had explained herself. “You're right,” he admitted. “I can still feel the timeline. Nothing was disturbed when the Romanovs left. You made the right call.”

     Molly let out a breath of relief. “Good.” The two Romanovs finished on her shoulder, which was neatly stitched up and cleaned. She extended her arm experimentally, admiring their work. “Thanks, Tatiana. Alexandra.”

     “It's nothing,” Tatiana said lightly, “compared to what you've done for our family.” Her tone was light, but her expression carried the true weight of gratitude behind her words. Molly gave her a small smile in response.

     From his spot by the door frame, Nicholas sighed, hanging his head. “I can't stop thinking about those aliens,” he admitted quietly. “They're going to die in our place. They'll never even know what's coming. It doesn't seem fair, somehow.”

     Molly felt a pang of guilt. The Khaynens' fate was her fault. She'd subjected them to a violent and painful death. Even after what they'd tried to do, she'd never meant to kill them. It went against everything she and the Doctor worked for.

     The Doctor's expression softened, eyes warm with sympathy. He reached out and grabbed Molly's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You gave them a chance, Molly,” he reminded her softly. There was no accusation in his eyes, only sad understanding, the eyes of a man who had done terrible things and could still forgive them in others.

     Molly smiled sadly, still guilty but glad of the Doctor's understanding. The Time Lord smiled back, then turned to Nicholas, giving the Tsar a knowing look. “Your family lived, Nicholas,” he reminded the former Tsar quietly. “Think about that. Your family is alive. You get to live out your lives.” He turned back to Molly as he added, “Thanks to her.”

     The pathologist blushed slightly. “Thanks to us,” she tried to correct.

     “Thanks to _you,_ ” the Doctor corrected firmly. “I didn't do anything. This was all you, Molly. You saved this family.” There was so much pride in his expression.

     Molly was still a little flustered, but for the first time, she allowed herself to really believe the Doctor's praise. She _had_ saved the family. Her, no one else. She'd gone against the rules, she'd figured out how to beat them and a plan to go with it, and she'd saved those deemed unsaveable. She was the hero this time.

     Feeling a new surge of confidence, she turned to Nicholas, offering a warm smile. “You know, the Khaynens were a bit like you,” she said casually. “A royal family driven out by their own people. But you know the difference? All they wanted was their power back. They didn't care about the people they had to hurt to get there, or even about each other. They were willing to turn on each other to get as much power as they could. You? You're a real family. You care about each other, and about your county. That love, that caring, that's what makes you worth saving. That's why I did it.”

     Nicholas returned her smile, looking more assured. The family huddled together, sharing their joy over being alive. Looking forward to all the years ahead.

**SCENEBREAK**

     “Here we are then.”

     The Doctor stilled the TARDIS, then hurried to the door. He opened it with a grand gesture, watching as the Romanov family slowly made their way outside. Earlier in the med bay, he had been able to find a pill that lessened Aleksei's hemophilia, so that he simply bled more than normal, rather than being unable to form blood clots. He could walk again since the swelling in his knee had gone down, and now he would be able to live a more normal life.

     They were by a road somewhere in the country. A car slowly drove by, which the family watched with wide eyes. The Doctor and Molly followed them out, watching their reactions carefully. “The year 1991, somewhere in Russia. The Bolsheviks and their Soviet Union have fallen.” He watched the Romanovs carefully as he added, “There's no royalty here anymore. The country's adopted a federal republic. You won't ever be able to tell people who you really are.” He leaned carefully against the TARDIS, crossing his arms over his chest. “It won't be easy either. The country's trying to pick itself back up, picking up the pieces after the Soviet Union fell apart. There's new technologies, new values, new issues and struggles. It's been over eighty years. You might have trouble adjusting.”

     “But there's good things too,” Molly added with a smile. “There's so many more opportunities. Women can be doctors,” she said with a quick glance at Tatiana, “people can marry who they want, and so many more jobs exist than you ever could have thought of. The world is more or less at peace right now.”

     Nicholas looked at his family, then turned back to Molly with a nod. “I think we'll be okay,” he told her with a smile.

     At last, it was time for goodbye. One by one, the Romanovs came up to hug Molly goodbye. Anastasia gave her a tight hug, smiling sadly as she pulled back. “Will we ever see you again?” she asked.

     Molly gave her a mischievous grin. “Well, it's a time machine after all. You never know.”

     Maria gave her a sad goodbye, followed by Aleksei and a more composed Alexandra and Nicholas. Tatiana hugged her tightly, then pulled back, emotion flooding her eyes. “I don't know how to thank you for what you've done for my family,” she said softly.

     The pathologist just smiled, warm pride flooding her chest. “You don't have to. It's what we do.”

     Olga was the last to say her goodbyes. “I'm sorry I didn't trust you,” she said ruefully. “We owe you our lives.”

     Molly just grinned, pulling the young woman into a tight hug. “Just be great out there, alright? Really live.” _Like I wouldn't have if the Doctor hadn't come along._

     The former Grand Duchess gave her a confident grin, looking so different from the tired girl from the House of Special Purpose. “Don't worry,” she promised, “we will.”

     The family started off down the road, helping to support the still wobbly Aleksei. The Doctor and Molly watched them until they were gone, reflecting on the family and what had been done to save them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over. High school is finally freaking over. I am now officially a college freshman. :D I can't even say how excited I am to be done with high school. Thank you so much to everyone who wished me luck.
> 
> So this episode is over. I hope you guys liked it. I won't say what episode is coming next, but I will say it's a canon episode. ;)


	38. The Reichenbach Fall: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A call from Sherlock changes everything.

     Travel with the Doctor had been fairly normal since the Christmas party and the subsequent trip to revolutionary Russia. Well, as normal as life on the TARDIS could ever be. There were still planets to save, aliens to stop, danger to be had. But still, life went on, and as time passed, she found herself being really, truly happy. The TARDIS was her home, more than anywhere had ever been, and she was doing something worthwhile with her life, with the best friend she'd ever had. She was pretty sure she would be happy if she could do this for the rest of her life.

     Of course, that was when Sherlock called and everything changed.

     Molly was in the console room when he called, with the Doctor fiddling with the controls. They were on their way to the beaches of Netherly, where the sand was the color of flames and the sea a deep purple. She'd been looking forward to it for a few days now, after a few slight detours that dropped them right in the middle of a gladiator fight in ancient Rome and to some sort of alien ritual that turned out to be dedicated to the Doctor. The Doctor had just been about to send them off to Netherly, planning to actually get them there this time, when the call came.

     The pathologist bit back a groan when she saw the caller ID, but picked up the call nevertheless. “Hello Sherlock,” she greeted dully. The Doctor looked up with surprise, eyes narrowing at the mention of the detective. They hadn't seen him since the disastrous Christmas party, and they hadn't exactly been planning on visiting anytime soon.

     The voice at the other end went straight to the point, as per usual. “ _Meet us at St. Bart's in ten minutes._ ” There was a low voice in the background, probably John. He must have been scolding the detective, because a moment later he tacked a reluctant, “ _Please._ ” onto his request.

     Molly rolled her eyes at the detective's lack of tact. “Sherlock, I don't work there anymore, remember?” she reminded him curtly. “Whatever you have to work on, someone else can help you with it.”

     She was contemplating hanging up when Sherlock's voice came again. “ _It's Moriarty._ ” Molly froze, something cold clutching at her chest. The Doctor watched her expression with concern, but she didn't offer an explanation, not yet. She still had to process this. “ _He's back, and he's kidnapped two children. I need your help finding them._ ”

     Molly felt a brush of the old unconfidence she'd had when she'd first boarded the TARDIS, the uncertainty of a girl who'd spent her life living in other people's shadows. She hadn't been in love with Moriarity or anything like that, but she'd still cared about him and trusted him, and he'd turned that on her in the cruelest way possible. Being strapped to that bomb was probably one of the most terrifying things to happen to her since she'd started traveling with the Doctor. She'd been forced to say those awful things about herself, with a bomb strapped to her chest ready to explode at any moment, controlled by the whims of a madman. It made her far more helpless than when she'd been staring down Daleks and Khaynens, and she'd hated it. She'd gotten past so many of her issues since coming on board the TARDIS, but somehow thinking about Moriarty seemed to bring back all of them.

     Still, she knew she'd never forgive herself if she let two kids get taken just because she had issues to work through. Besides, maybe this was what she needed. Facing Moriarty again, and finally beating him. Maybe it would help.

     She sighed. “I'll be there in a few minutes.” The line went dead – presumably, Sherlock had been satisfied with her answer and had seen no further use in continuing the conversation. Holding back another sigh, she looked up at the Time Lord, who immediately tried to busy himself and look as though he hadn't been eavesdropping. The Doctor's antics helped to lighten her dark mood, at least a little, giving her a reason to smile as she told him, “Sorry, Doctor, but can we hold off on Netherly beaches?”

     The Time Lord paused, turning back to her with a careful expression. He hesitated before asking, “What's up?”

     Molly hesitated, not particularly wanting to talk about Jim again, but the Doctor had the right to know. He hadn't gone after her for her own sake after all – he'd only kidnapped her and gone after the other companions to get to the Doctor. “It's Moriarty,” she admitted quietly. “He's back.”

     The Doctor stiffened, cold anger flashing in his eyes at the mention of the criminal. Molly knew that in going after all of his companions at once, Moriarty had crossed a line seldom crossed by even the Doctor's worst enemies. “What's he done this time?” the Time Lord asked in a measured tone.

     The pathologist sighed. “Kidnapped two kids, apparently." The Doctor's eyes grew even colder to hear that children were in danger. "Sherlock needs me to be at St. Bart's in ten minutes."

     The Doctor frowned, not seeming pleased with the idea. "Are you really sure you want to do this?" he finally asked.

     Molly raised an eyebrow. "Doctor, it's not exactly like I have a choice. I can't just let two kids get taken and do nothing.”

     “That's not what I meant,” the Time Lord argued. “Molly, he's not the only one who can investigate. We can go after those kids ourselves. There's no reason we have to work with Sherlock.” She could hear the unspoken meaning behind his words. _There's no reason to let him hurt you again._

     Molly appreciated his concern, but it really wasn't something she wanted to discuss. “Sherlock Holmes has contacts all over the city, not to mention the closest thing a human could possibly have to Time Lord intelligence. He'll find the kids, he always does, we just need to help him, then it'll be over.” When the Time Lord still looked unconvinced, she added, “I want to do this, Doctor. I'm not letting Sherlock Holmes or James Moriarty get in the way of me helping people. I can take care of myself.”

     The Time Lord sighed, his resistance melting in the face of pride for his companion. “Yeah, I know you can,” he said with a slight smile. Without warning, he headed back to the console, beginning the flight sequence. “But,” he threw over his shoulder, “Netherly first.”

     “Doctor, he said ten minutes,” she protested.

     “Time machine,” he reminded her smugly. “We'll be there in plenty of time, and you, Miss Hooper, deserve to have a little fun first. I promised you Netherly, and I never break a promise.”

     Molly couldn't help but chuckle at the Time Lord's insistence. Maybe he was right. Just because Sherlock decided to drop in on her life again didn't mean she had to go running right away. She'd been promised a beach of flame and a crystal sea, and she wasn't letting Sherlock keep it from her. Not anymore. “You know what, you're right. To Netherly.”

     The Doctor grinned back. “To Netherly.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     Netherly was just as amazing as she'd imagined. The beach itself was stunning, the sands varying from light gold to deep red, giving the illusion of a wide flame, or a sunset, across the beach. The sea was a deep purple with blues and pinks thrown in, making the water look like crystal. It had been just warm enough outside, and the water had been heavenly. Molly's spirits were impossibly high when they finally left, and she felt ready to take on the world, never mind Jim Moriarty and Sherlock Holmes.

     They met the detective and his roommate at St. Bart's ten minutes after their phone conversation, using psychic paper to get in and use the lab. She hadn't worked in a lab like this in almost a year, but she was able to get around well enough to help Sherlock get what he needed. The Doctor insisted on sticking around, presumably to watch Sherlock and make sure he didn't say anything too rude. She doubted the Time Lord's presence could really stop Sherlock from being his ever-charming self, but she appreciated the gesture.

     She thought she'd want to get out of there as quickly as humanly possible, but something caught her attention. Something in Sherlock's expression. He seemed more tired, almost defeated, but only when he thought no one could see him. There was almost something fearful about him, something she never thought she'd see in the detective. Did Moriarty really have him that scared? Or was it something else? The way he kept looking at John, the way they were closer than Sherlock ever seemed to be to anyone. Was Sherlock afraid for someone else's sake for the first time in his life? Was that why Moriarty was getting to him so much, because of John?

     Molly slipped in quietly beside Sherlock as he was bent over the microscope. In a low voice, so neither John nor the Doctor could hear, she told him, “You know, when I first met the Doctor, he reminded me of you. You know, brilliant, eccentric, the only one who had any clue what was going on.”

     Sherlock didn't even glance up from his microscope as he snarked, “Molly, please don't feel the need to make conversation.”

     The pathologist resisted the urge to throw something at the detective and continued, “But the more I traveled with him, the more I realized just how different you two are. But you still have your similarities.”

     She looked up at the Time Lord, who had been distracted by something shiny in the lab and was scanning it with his screwdriver. A slight smirk found its way to her lips. “The Doctor acts like this cosmic twelve-year-old sometimes. I've never met anyone as cheerful as him. Everywhere we go, every new planet or time, he always finds something beautiful in it, no matter where we are. I've never seen someone who takes so much joy out of life.”

     “Molly,” Sherlock warned irritably.

     “Except when no one's watching him. He's almost a thousand years old, Sherlock, and when he thinks you can't see, it's there in his eyes, the weight of every year. He's seen so much, done terrible things. And he blames himself for all of it, for every loss he's ever suffered. But he doesn't want anyone else to know, so he covers it up with a smile, with a joke. But when no one's watching, it's there.” Her voice softened as she told him, “You look sad like him, when you think he can't see.” By “he,” she meant John. Of course she meant John, who else had Sherlock ever cared about in his life? _Certainly not me,_ she thought sadly.

     Sherlock stiffened, apparently not having expected Molly's words. He looked slowly up at John, that inexplicable sadness flashing in his eyes again, before he turned to look at Molly with curiosity and wariness.

     Molly smiled sadly at the detective. “Are you alright?” she asked gently. The detective opened his mouth to talk, but she saw the dodge coming a mile away and interrupted somewhat irritably with, “And don't just say you are, because I've been traveling with the Doctor for a year now. Don't think I can't tell when someone's in pain and doesn't want to share it. I'm pretty sure I could qualify as an expert on the subject by now.”

     The detective's brow wrinkled, making him look puzzled. “You said it's when no one can see me, but _you_ see me,” he pointed out.

     The pathologist felt a pang of sadness. “I think you've made it pretty clear how much regard you have for me,” she told him coolly. Guilt flashed in Sherlock's eyes, taking her by surprise, but before he could say anything she cut him off again. “Look, it's fine, don't worry about it. I've got the Doctor and the TARDIS, I don't need you too. But I think you need help, and that's what me and the Doctor do, we help people who need it. So if you need anything, just know I'm here."

     Sherlock didn't seem to know what to say to her offer, or rather her shrewd assessment of him. Finally, he slowly asked, "What could I need from you?"

     She felt a flash of irritation at his rudeness, and let it bleed through in her tone. "I don't know. You're the genius, you figure it out." The pathologist started to walk away, back towards the Doctor, but after a moment's thought she turned back to Sherlock. "There are other people who care about you, Sherlock. You need to start appreciating that before you lose them."

**SCENEBREAK**

     There were many reasons the Doctor wasn't Sherlock Holmes's biggest fan. For one, he was a generally rude and unpleasant person to be around. He alienated the people around him and was determined to always be the most clever person in the room, even when he wasn't. The only person he seemed to have any regard for was John, who seemed to serve as his companion. Everyone else was worthless or less.

     But the worst of it was, of course, his treatment of Molly. She had been his companion for a year now, and the Doctor had become fond of her as he did all of his companions, but also very protective. She'd started out so unsure and insecure, he'd wanted to do everything he could to protect her from negativity and assure her that she was worth it. Now that she'd grown in confidence, he still felt that instinct to protect, even if she didn't need him to anymore. He wasn't sure what that was called, but the closest he could come to describing it was when he'd become human, and she had been his little sister.

     Therefore, Sherlock Holmes, with the way he walked all over Molly and tore her down, was not among the Doctor's favorite people. Still, Molly was becoming increasingly capable of defending herself, so the Time Lord forced himself to back off, settling for glowering unpleasantly at the detective from the back of the lab. He was more glad than he could say when Sherlock discovered what he'd needed and they were able to head back to the TARDIS.

     When they returned to the ship, Molly still seemed a little out of it, irritated and worried at the same time. The Time Lord watched her worriedly. Had Sherlock said something to her? "Are you alright?" he asked aloud.

     Molly looked up with surprise. "Hmm? Oh yeah, I'm fine, it's just something Sherlock said."

     Anger pulsed quickly through the Time Lord. "Anything I should hear about?" he asked lightly.

     He must have looked visibly angry, because Molly looked at him with a snort of amusement. "He didn't insult me again, if that's what you're asking," she told him with a smirk. "Well, not much anyway. No, it's just, he seemed scared. I think Moriarty's really starting to get to him."

     The Doctor was surprised at Molly's assessment. The detective hasn't seemed scared to him; then again, he hasn't been paying attention to his mood, rather to his attitude toward his companion. "Really? I didn't think the great Sherlock Holmes got scared," he snarked.

     Molly chuckled. "Me neither." Then she sobered. "It's weird, Doctor. I think he's in over his head for the first time, and that terrifies him. He's never been out of his depth with a case before. And I think he's scared for John."

     The Time Lord shrugged, trying not to feel too sorry for the detective. "He's clever, he'll figure it out."

     His companion gave him a knowing look. "Being clever isn't always enough," she reminded him. "And if Sherlock's scared, then it's serious."

     The Doctor had to admit, she had a point. Moriarty's return couldn't possibly mean anything good. They'd found enough to get those children back, but he had a feeling that this was far from the end of it. The consulting criminal was far too clever to let the discovery of two kidnapped children put much of a wrench in his plans. Maybe it was even part of some twisted plan of his. He and Sherlock both seemed to have a thing for tangled, convoluted plans. They were almost worse than the Master.

     He felt another pulse of anger, his hands gripping the TARDIS controls more tightly. Besides what Moriarty had done to the children and to Sherlock, he had his own score to settle with the consulting criminal. Not only had Moriarty gone after Molly, strapping her to a bomb and threatening to blow her up, but he'd gone after _every companion living on Earth._ That, more than anything, was completely unacceptable. His companions were _off-limits,_ and going after them all at once was something even the Daleks hadn't dared to do. Moriarty couldn't be allowed to get away with it. At all.

     Molly sighed, turning to look back towards the door. "This isn't over," she said quietly. "Moriarty wouldn't come back for nothing. There's more to this, and I've got a feeling we're all going to get mixed up in this before it's over."

     The Doctor couldn't help but hope she was right. Whatever Sherlock had planned for Moriarty would seem tame once the Doctor was through with him. He could feel the Oncoming Storm raging inside, the fury of a Time Lord boiling in his blood.

     James Moriarty had no idea what was coming for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, here we are with the Reichenbach Fall. In case you're looking for some of my usual mixing it up and departing from canon, I'll let you down now and say that I'm basically sticking to canon with this one.
> 
> Also, this is looking to be a very short, two-parter episode. I don't exactly have a lot of Molly scenes to work with. Oh well, the next episode should be longer.


	39. The Reichenbach Fall: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly gets another call from Sherlock.

     After returning from St. Barts, they threw the TARDIS into the Time Vortex and headed off to bed. Molly didn't feel as dejected after this Sherlock visit than she had after the last one, but it was still an odd feeling, seeing the man she had a crush on after so long. Still, it was definitely easier than last time.

     But that wasn't what was bugging her as she lay awake, trying to will herself into sleep. It was Moriarty. He'd come back, but why? What was the point of kidnapping those two children? Did he want ransom, fame, what? He'd been caught so easily, it almost seemed like he'd wanted to be caught. And that didn't bode well for anyone.

     She finally managed to drift off, her dreams colored by her worries over Sherlock and Moriarty. When she woke several hours later, she felt groggy and unrested.

     The pathologist – really, former pathologist at this point, she didn't see herself returning to her work any time soon – grabbed some breakfast, then headed into the console room. The Doctor was already there, as always. He always went on about superior Time Lord biology and how he didn't need as much sleep as humans, but sometimes Molly had to wonder if he _ever_ slept. He looked up as she came in, flashing a bright grin. “Morning,” he greeted cheerfully.

     “Morning,” Molly said back, heading up the stairs to the console. “So, where to today?”

     The Doctor grimaced. “Well, er, we sort of wore the old girl out with these last few trips, so I was thinking somewhere sort of quiet for the next few days. That alright?”

     The companion nodded agreeably. “Sure. I'll find something to read in the library, there's a really good detective series I found earlier.”

     Before the Time Lord could respond, Molly's phone rang again. She froze, already anticipating who the caller would be. A quick look at the caller ID showed her she was wright. Ignoring the Doctor's questioning look, she picked up the call. “Hi Sherlock. Problem with yesterday's results?”

     The voice on the other end hesitated several moments, so long that Molly was left wondering if he'd hung up. Finally, he replied in a low, strangely subdued tone. “ _Is there somewhere quiet we can meet?_ ”

     Molly blinked in surprise. That wasn't what she'd been expecting. “Why?” she asked cautiously.

     Another hesitation. “ _There's something I need to ask you._ ”

     She was a bit confused by the whole cloak-and-dagger routine he seemed to be trying to pull. “Look, I'll meet you at St. Bart's in ten minutes - ”

     “ _No,_ ” he cut her off immediately. “ _It's not safe. And it'll be a bit suspicious if you show up there again, seeing as you don't work there anymore._ ”

     “Not safe? What?” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

     “ _Moriarty's..._ unique _plan has the public thinking I'm a criminal,_ ” he explained with a tone tinged with bitterness.

     Molly felt a thrill of fear. “You're on the run?”

     “ _Precisely. I need to speak with you. Can that ship of yours land anywhere?_ ”

     “As long as we've got coordinates, yeah,” she told him.

     Without missing a beat, he shot off coordinates for her, along with a date and a time. Molly had him repeat them, to his irritation, then agreed to meet him there. “Sherlock, don't worry,” she told him. “Whatever's going on, the Doctor and I, we can help.”

     “Right.” With that, the line went dead. Molly stared at the phone for a few moments, going over their conversation in her head. Her instincts from yesterday were screaming away in her head. Something was really, really wrong.

     The Doctor gave her a few moments' silence before asking lightly, “Another trip to London, then?”

     She nodded. “With some mystery coordinates to match,” she told him ruefully.

     “Did he say why?” the Time Lord asked somewhat irritably.

     “No,” Molly admitted. She hesitated, then turned to the Doctor. “Something's wrong. Sherlock sounded scared. I've never heard him like that before. We should probably get there soon.”

     Molly could tell the Doctor wasn't exactly keen to go to Sherlock's rescue, but he would never say no to helping someone either. Reluctantly, he said, “Alright, let's go then.” He hurried to the console, starting up the flight sequence, with Molly's help. He'd been starting to show her how to work some of the controls, and now she was able to help with some of the start-up sequence. It was good to feel helpful, though she was equally content to just sit back and enjoy the ride.

**SCENEBREAK**

     “Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised,” Molly said ruefully as she stepped out of the TARDIS. Sherlock's coordinates had sent them into what looked like some sort of abandoned warehouse. It was dark, night-time, and their footsteps echoed eerily around the walls and high ceilings.

     “He certainly has a flair for the dramatic,” the Doctor agreed, looking around with raised eyebrows.

     Molly snorted. “You're one to talk.”

     Before the Doctor could retort, a voice sounded from the shadows. “You came.” Sherlock stepped out from behind one of the shelves, taking a few steps out before stopping. He looked worn, his eyes tired, hair mussed. He was shuffling slightly, not meeting Molly's eyes. She felt a chill creep down her spine. Something was definitely wrong, if Sherlock was this rattled.

     She nodded. “You asked me to,” she said simply. “What do you need?”

     Sherlock hesitated, looking from Molly to the Doctor, then looked down again. “You're wrong, you know,” he said softly. There was unusual sincerity in his tone, a careful softness that suggested he was trying to be kind. “About my regard for you. I know I've often acted like you don't matter, but you do. You _do_ count. You've _always_ counted, and I've always trusted you.”

     Molly drew in a sharp breath. Sherlock had never, _ever_ been so sentimental, especially when talking about her. She'd had no idea what to even think about what he'd said, or whether to trust it, but he seemed unusually sincere. Maybe he really did care about her after all. She wasn't sure what to say, so she just stayed silent, watching him in shock while he continued, “But you were right. I'm not okay.”

     The companion hesitated, shooting the Doctor a quick, questioning look. He was glowering untrustingly at Sherlock, but when he caught Molly's glance, he shrugged as though to say, _it's your call._

     She turned back to Sherlock. “Tell me what's wrong,” she said quietly.

     The detective began slowly approaching, that sharp, intelligent gaze fixed on her, dark with uncertainty. “Molly, I think I'm going to die,” he admitted in a small, scared voice. That voice frightened her more than anything. What could possibly get Sherlock Holmes so scared?

     Molly knew he wouldn't have asked for help if he didn't have a plan. “What do you need?” she asked simply.

     He kept coming closer, finally stopping a few paces away. Molly couldn't look away from the desperate look in his eyes, and the quiet trust she'd never expected from the detective. “You,” he replied quietly. “Your help.”

     Quickly, he explained his plan, and what he needed. The Doctor and Molly listened in silence to his explanation. Everything he needed would be available – and Molly knew the Doctor was itching to suggest futuristic or alien alternatives – but the plan still bothered her. “Sherlock, it's dangerous,” she argued.

     “It'll work,” he assured her somewhat smugly.

     “And after?” Molly pressed. “When the world thinks you're dead and Moriarty's men'll kill you if they see you?”

     “I'll find them and get them convicted,” Sherlock said confidently.

     “And how long will that take?” she asked knowingly.

     Sherlock shrugged, trying to see unconcerned, but she could see the fear in his eyes. He was about to subject himself to months and months of lonely travel, hunting down criminals while the world thought he was dead.

     There had to be something more they could do.

**SCENEBREAK**

     After they dropped off what the detective needed, the Doctor and Molly headed back into the TARDIS. They'd agreed to meet up with Sherlock afterwards to make sure everything had gone according to plan and that he was still alive. Molly still didn't like the plan, but Sherlock was stubborn, there was no convincing him otherwise.

     There was something that had been eating at her since they'd gotten back. It must have showed, because after a few moments' silence, the Doctor turned to her. "Alright, what's up?"

     She hesitated, looking towards the door, before sighing. “It's just weird. This whole thing with Moriarty, Sherlock planning to fake his own death, having to make everyone think he's dead. It's just... weird. It's like, my life's so crazy now, but I thought everything on Earth would stay the same, you know? Like my life was wild and crazy and wonderful, and London would just stay in this little pocket of normalcy, 'cause that's how I'd left it. But now everything's falling apart, and I can't do anything about it.”

     “You've done plenty,” the Time Lord assured her. “You're helping Sherlock with his 'suicide.' There's nothing more you can do.”

     Molly hesitated, feeling a little guilty about what she was going to ask next, but she knew she had to. “Actually, there is.” The Doctor looked at her questioningly, and a little warily. She looked him right in the eyes and told him, “I want to invite Sherlock to stay on the TARDIS.”

     The Time Lord blinked at her in shock, mouth opening and closing a couple times, making him look like a gaping fish. Molly nearly had to hold back a laugh at his expression, but the seriousness of the situation kept her solemn. Finally, the Doctor managed a light, “Well, not quite what I expected.” He sobered after a few moments. “Really? Sherlock Holmes on the TARDIS?”

     “He'll be on his own, him against Moriarty's entire network,” Molly pointed out. “Even for Sherlock Holmes, those aren't good odds. He'll be completely on his own, having to go god knows where just to find these guys, having to find ways to get them legally convicted, all while trying to hide from both Moriarty's network and whoever might recognize him from the papers or who knows him. We could help him, Doctor.”

     “But we don't have to,” the Time Lord told her firmly. He made his way over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder and bending down slightly to look into her eyes. “Molly, this guy keeps walking over you, and you keep coming back to him, over and over. You don't have to. You don't owe Sherlock Holmes anything. You know that, right?”

     Molly looked back at him steadily. “I do,” she assured him. “But as crappy as he is sometimes, he was as close as I had to a friend for a very long time, and like it or not, I still care about him. And he doesn't deserve what's happening to him now. Maybe he'll never care about me the way I care about him, but I can still be a decent person to him and maybe even be his friend. I believe he's scared, more scared than I've ever seen him before, and I believe what he said in the warehouse. I also believe he'd never leave John Watson unless he absolutely had to. I don't have to help him, but I want to. Will you help?”

     The Time Lord hesitated, but her words finally seemed to convince him. He sighed, tone heavy with resignation as he muttered, “Fine.” He headed back over to the console, then turned back to Molly, voice more firm as he added, “He doesn't get to touch the console, and if I find him poking around he's getting a one-way ticket back to Earth.”

     Molly couldn't help but grin. It would be just like the detective to try to tear apart the TARDIS console to try to figure out how it worked. “Deal. I can't promise he won't be a handful, but I'll try to keep him from doing anything too damaging. And it's only until he finds and catches everyone related to Moriarty, which'll be easier with your help.”

     The Time Lord groaned. “Sherlock Holmes on the TARDIS. Why do I ever agree to these things?” He seemed to be asking the TARDIS rather than Molly, so she kept silent, holding back a smirk.

**SCENEBREAK**

     They landed by the detective's grave a few days after his supposed death. The detective in question was standing by the trees nearby, watching a figure by the grave with a heartbroken expression. The Doctor didn't even have to look to know it was John by the gravestone. He and his flatmate had a uniquely deep bond. He wondered what it was going to do to both of them to be separated like this.

     Molly went up to talk to Sherlock, then led him over to where the TARDIS was parked. The detective managed to look completely unimpressed as he entered the ship. “A rather conspicuous place to park, wouldn't you say?” he snarked lightly. “A big blue box in the middle of a graveyard?”

     “No worse than a dead man standing by his own grave,” the Doctor pointed out with equal snark. “Stunt like that, you won't last a day on the run.”

     Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not, Time Lord, I can take care of myself.”

     “Oh good, then I don't have to make any offers then,” the Doctor snarked.

     Molly shot him a glare. “Doctor,” she warned.

     Sherlock's brow furrowed. “What offers?” he asked with confusion.

     The Time Lord's companion glared at him, then turned to Sherlock. “Come with us,” she said simply.

     The detective managed to look even more confused. “Come with you... on the TARDIS?”

     The Doctor leaned towards Molly. “For a genius, he's a bit slow,” he said in a low tone.

     Molly just rolled her eyes and told Sherlock, “Yeah, on the TARDIS. It'll be easier to track Moriarty's men on the run, and it'll be a lot safer.”

     Sherlock looked from Molly to the Doctor, then shook his head. “I can take care of myself, thanks.”

     He started to walk away, turning his coat collar up, but Molly got in his way, now glaring at him. “You know, you're as bad as the Doctor, acting like you don't need anybody. Don't turn your back on the people trying to help you, Sherlock. I'm trying to get you home faster to John. Isn't that what you want?” There was bitterness in her tone as she spoke, but sincerity too. She really wanted to help him, something the Doctor wished he didn't understand. He knew all too well what it was to care about someone you shouldn't.

     Sherlock hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. I'll stay.”

     Molly smiled slightly. “Good.” She turned and started off down the hallway. “I'll show you where the rooms are, then we can get going for the day. Plenty to see out there.”

     The detective went to follow her, but the Time Lord pulled him aside quickly. In a low tone, he told Sherlock, “I'm letting you on because Molly asked me to. She cares about you, Sherlock.”

     The human sighed. “I know,” he said shortly.

     The Doctor leaned in closer, voice tight as he warned, “So if you hurt her in any way, you're getting left behind, no matter what planet we're on. Got it?”

     Sherlock's sharp gaze flitted over his face, but he seemed sincere as he told him, “Got it.” The Time Lord released him, allowing him to follow Molly back to the hallways, wondering just how he'd allowed himself and the TARDIS to get into this mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, I went there. Ladies and gentlemen, Sherlock Holmes is now traveling on the TARDIS. Whether this is awesome or a source of horror... I'll let you decide.
> 
> This episode is now over. I won't say which one's next, but you can probably guess. Sorry for not straying too far from canon here, but all I wanted from this episode was to get Sherlock onto the TARDIS. Hopefully there'll be more tomorrow (or rather today, since it's midnight.)


	40. Utopia: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor takes the TARDIS to a quick pit stop in Cardiff.

     When Molly led Sherlock back from where the rooms were, they returned to the console room, where the Doctor was already starting up the flight sequence. As she went over to help him, she noticed Sherlock's sharp, evaluating gaze focus on the console. He'd probably be able to memorize the bloody flight sequence after a few go's, she realized. What would happen after Sherlock Holmes knew how to fly the TARIDS? She shuddered to think.

     “So, where to?” Molly asked as she helped hold down the lever he had indicated.

     The Time Lord threw a final switch, sending the TARDIS shuddering and shaking through the Time Vortex. Molly held back a chuckle as Sherlock was caught by surprise, nearly being thrown off his feet before he grabbed hold of a nearby rail. When the ship shuddered to a halt, the Doctor checked one of the screens with a grin. “Cardiff!” he announced cheerfully.

     From his spot by the rail, Sherlock wrinkled his nose. “Cardiff?” he repeated with disdain.

     The Doctor nodded, circling around the console to mess with some of the controls. “Ah, but the thing about Cardiff, it's built on a rift in time and space,” he explained in his lecturing schoolteacher tone, “just like California and the San Andreas Fault, but the rift bleeds energy. Every now and then I need to open up the engines, soak up the energy and use it as fuel. Like I said, we've been sort of wearing the old girl out with the last few trips, she needs the energy boost.”

     Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the Time Lord' explanation. “You're saying your time machine runs on the energy of time and space?” he asked dubiously.

     Without even looking up, the Doctor replied, “Yes, and if you try to hijack my TARDIS you're getting left on the fourth moon of Genoveen where they use humans as welcome mats.” Molly blinked at the unusual threat – she'd never heard him mention Genoveen before – but Sherlock didn't even look fazed.

     The Doctor finished with the controls. “There, done. Just filling up the engines, should only take twenty seconds.” He looked at one of the monitors with a frown. “The rift's been active,” he observed, brow furrowed with concern.

     Molly had just remembered something. “Hold up. Wasn't there an earthquake in Cardiff a few years back?” She shot the Doctor a smirk, wondering exactly what sort of mischief had caused that. “That was you, wasn't it?”

     The Doctor's gaze became unfocused as he remembered. “Bit of trouble with the Slitheen,” was all he said. He seemed to be smirking to himself as he added, “A long time ago. Lifetimes. I was a different man back then.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at this but didn't respond. Molly didn't even think that much of it. The Doctor liked to be cryptic every now and then. It boosted his “last of the Time Lords and so very impressive” ego.

     The Time Lord checked the monitor, grinning. “Finito! All powered up.” Suddenly, he froze, expression becoming one of shock, before switching abruptly back to a grin. Molly blinked, bewildered at his sudden change in behavior. She shot Sherlock a questioning glance, but before any of them could say anything, the TARDIS gave an unusually violent shudder, throwing everyone off their feet. Sparks leaped from the console, an alarm blaring through the ship, the shaking and shuddering far worse than it had ever been before. Molly, Sherlock, and the Doctor had to cling desperately to the console to keep from being thrown about the ship.

     “What the hell was that?” Molly asked, keeping a tight grip on the console.

     The Doctor looked totally bewildered. He stared at the monitor in total bemusement as he realized, “We're accelerating into the future. The year one billion. Five billion. Five trillion. Fifty trillion?” His brow scrunched even further, his voice going squeaky in shock. “What? The year one hundred trillion? That's impossible!”

     Molly knew the Time Lord didn't use the term “impossible” lightly. Things must be going really wacky if he was this baffled. “Why, what happens then?”

     Still looking sort of stunned, the Doctor turned to Sherlock, then to her. “We're going to the end of the universe,” he told them.

**SCENEBREAK**

     With a final, violent jerk, the TARDIS landed. The three passengers got up and dusted themselves off. Molly noticed that Sherlock was trying to look as though he hadn't been caught by surprise, and had to hold back a snort of amusement.

     The Doctor raised an eyebrow, staring quizzically around the console room. “Well, we've landed,” he quipped lightly.

     Sherlock threw the Time Lord a glare. His coat was still slightly ruffled from the TARDIS throwing him off balance. “I thought that should have been obvious,” he snarked under his breath.

     Molly was quicker to get back on her feet, a year of TARDIS travel making it easier to bounce back from rough turbulence. She shot a curious glance at the front door. “So where are we now?” she asked curiously.

     “I don't know,” the Doctor admitted. He too was staring at the front door with a furrowed brow, looking caught between curiosity and worry.

     The companion's eyebrows flew up at his statement. “There's a rarity,” she joked. The Time Lord seemed to pride himself on knowing every corner of the universe.

     The Time Lord didn't respond. He turned slowly from looking at the door to Molly, expression deepening further and further into confusion and concern. “Not even the Time Lords came this far,” he murmured, anxiety flickering in his eyes. “We should leave. We should go. We should really, really go.”

     There was a short, tense silence, where both Time Lord and companion worried about what waited outside. Then the Doctor grinned, and the tension was broken. While Sherlock watched them in utter bemusement, the Time Lord and his companion both ran for the door, grinning like idiots as they went to figure out where they'd landed now.

     As they stepped outside, they were immediately greeted with a rocky, completely barren quarry. The night sky overhead was completely of stars, something that immediately set warnings off in Molly's head. Everywhere they went, she could always see the stars of other worlds, reminders of how many other planets and people were out there, and how much sky there was to explore. To see no stars at all... she hadn't felt so alone in a long time.

     She was distracted from these thoughts by the sight of a man lying on the ground near the TARDIS. “Oh my god.” Molly hurried to the man's side, checking quickly for vitals. When she didn't feel a pulse, she froze in horror. She didn't need to look further to know the man was dead.

     “Where did he come from?” she breathed, staring down at his body in shock. She looked up at the Time Lord, noticing for the first time that he hadn't followed her to check on the body. He was standing back, staring at the body with a strangely unemotional expression. He seemed almost... _cold._ Completely unlike himself. “Doctor?” she asked softly. “What's going on?”

     Before the Time Lord could respond, Sherlock spoke up. He hadn't stepped far past the TARDIS, and was watching the Time Lord with a shrewd smirk. “Oh Molly, I should have thought it'd've been obvious. The dearly departed is a friend of the Doctor's, and one that he had a rather bad falling-out with.”

     Molly's brow wrinkled with confusion. “Wait, what? How do you know the Doctor knows him?”

     Looking irritated, the Time Lord opened his mouth to retaliate, but was once again beaten by Sherlock. “Right before we left Cardiff, this man was visible on the monitor, running towards the TARDIS and calling the Doctor's name. The Doctor saw him coming and tried to make the TARDIS take off before the man could reach us. Now, the man wasn't chasing us maliciously, so he isn't an enemy. Ergo, it's someone he knows, and for whatever reason doesn't want to talk to, plus the extremely suggestive lack of emotional response at his death.”

     Molly had forgotten just how much Sherlock's explanations left her feeling overwhelmed, but for once she was able to follow completely. Was it really true? What could an old friend have done for the Doctor to react like this? She looked to the Time Lord for explanation, but he was busy looking at Sherlock with a furrowed brow. “Are you gonna do that every time we meet someone?” he asked lightly. “'Cause that's gonna get old pretty fast.”

     “Just shedding some light, Doctor,” Sherlock remarked with a little mocking shrug.

     Before the Time Lord could respond, the fallen man, the one she had been sure was dead, shuddered back to life. He tensed up, gasping, trying to draw air back into his lungs. Molly jumped back in shock, staring at the man with wide eyes. “B-but you were dead,” she gasped out.

     The man stilled, gaze focused on Molly. His expression became a charming smile unnervingly fast. In a strong American accent, he introduced himself. “Captain Jack Harkness. And who are you?”

     Molly faltered a little at his sudden charm. She hadn't realized when she'd gone to help him how handsome he was. “Er, Molly Hooper,” she managed. After all this time, and all the new confidence she'd gained, she still wasn't really good with the flirting.

     Jack Harkness grinned winningly. “Glad to meet you, Molly Hooper.”

     “Oh, don't start,” the Doctor groaned. He was still tense, looking at Jack with an almost Sherlockian look of disdain. Molly had never seen him like that. It was odd, and not exactly pleasant, seeing her friend acting so cold against a former friend.

     Jack shot the Time Lord and irritated glance. “I was only saying hello,” he complained.

     Molly couldn't help but assure the Doctor, “I don't mind.”

     From his spot by the TARDIS, Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Oh good grief,” he muttered. Molly had to work to ignore him.

     She helped the captain to his feet. His charming smile cooled as he looked at the Time Lord. He greeted him stiffly. “Doctor.”

     The Doctor responded in kind. “Captain.”

     Jack managed a tight smile. “Good to see you.”

     The Doctor nodded stiffly. “And you. Same as ever. Although, have you had work done?”

     The captain snorted, the awkwardness dropped for the first time. “You can talk.”

     The Time Lord stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, then chuckled slightly. “Oh yes, the face. Regeneration.” Molly blinked at the word. The Doctor had mentioned regeneration off-hand a couple of times, but he'd never fully explained it. What did this Jack Harkness know about it? “How did you know this was me?”

     “The police box kind of gives it away,” Jack returned lightly. “I've been following you for a long time.” His expression hardened, voice becoming cold with accusation as he said, “You abandoned me.”

     Molly's eyes widened at the accusation. She waited for the Doctor to deny it, or explain himself, or something. But all he did was stare coolly at Jack and say, “Did I? Busy life. Moving on.” She couldn't understand why he was being so cold. He was more considerate to some of his enemies. This wasn't the Doctor she knew. What was going on?

     Jack's anger faded, to be replaced by hesitation. “Just got to ask. The Battle of Canary Wharf. I saw the list of the dead.” He hesitated, pain flashing in his eyes as he finally prompted, “It said Rose Tyler.”

     Raw pain flashed briefly in the Doctor's eyes, but for the first time he seemed willingly to treat Jack with something other than cold contempt. With a smile that she knew had been plastered on to cover up the pain, he told Jack, “Oh, no! Sorry, she's alive.”

     Jack's eyes widened. He gave a little shocked, relieved laugh. “You're kidding.”

     “Parallel world, safe and sound,” the Doctor assured him. “And Mickey, and her mother.”

     The captain laughed with relief. “Oh, yes!” He pulled the Doctor into a tight hug. Molly noticed that the Doctor flinched away from the contact, and stayed tense throughout the hug. Something was definitely wrong, but what?

**SCENEBREAK**

     “So there I was,” Jack continued as they made their way through the barren rock field, “Stranded in the year two hundred one hundred, ankle deep in Dalek dust, and he goes off without me. But I had this.” He held up a leather bracelet of sorts, with metal and electronics attached.

     The Doctor was several paces ahead, while Molly and Sherlock walked beside the captain. Sherlock had barely spoken two words the whole time. Molly had had to introduce him, which wasn't too far removed from his normal behavior, but was still irritating. Still, he was better than the Doctor was being at the moment. She'd never seen him so cold, and it was really strange. Jack's story wasn't clearing it up much better, either.

     “I used to be a Time Agent,” the man explained. “It's called a vortex manipulator. He's not the only one who can time travel.”

     For the first time, the Time Lord interjected himself into the conversation, whirling around with an outraged expression. “Oh, excuse me. That is not time travel. It's like, I've got a sports car and you've got a space hopper.”

     Molly had to hold back a laugh at the Doctor's outrage. “He's got a point, you know,” she told Jack. “Your Vortex Manipulator isn't a sentient time machine that leads you to the library when you're feeling down.”

     Jack chuckled. “Fair enough. All right, so I bounced. I thought 21st century, the best place to find the Doctor, except that I got it a little wrong. Arrived in 1869, this thing burnt out, so it was useless. ”

     “Told you,” the Doctor muttered.

     The human glared at the Time Lord. “I had to live through the entire twentieth century waiting for a version of you that would coincide with me.”

     Molly's brow furrowed. “But that would make you something over a hundred, wouldn't it?”

     Jack turned to her, turning the charm back on without missing a beat. “And looking good, don't you think?” Without waiting for a response, he turned back to the Doctor. “So I went to the time rift, based myself there because I knew you'd come back to refuel. Until finally I get a signal on this,” he held up the bag he'd been carrying, “detecting you and here we are.”

     For the first time, Sherlock spoke up. “So what kind of alien are you?”

     Jack looked at him with confusion. “What do you mean?”

     The detective rolled his eyes. “I think it's a fairly simple question,” he snarked. “What type of alien are you? You just said you've lived over a hundred years, plus there's the contrast between your modern attitude and afflictions and your genuine WWII coat. Clearly, you're an alien with a lifespan surpassing a human's who has access to time travel. I'm merely asking what kind.”

     The man grinned at Sherlock, looking impressed. “Nice trick, maybe I should learn that one.” When Sherlock didn't respond, he just chuckled. “Nah, I'm 100% human, but for you, I can be whatever you want.” Molly paused, blinking rapidly in surprise at the blatant flirting. It wasn't the fact that Jack had just shown himself comfortable flirting with more than one gender, or the fact that he found Sherlock attractive. Both of those were totally understandable. There was a reason Molly'd had a crush on him for years, and it wasn't his charm and compassion. No, it was more the fact that someone was willing to so openly flirt with him and not be turned off by his rudeness. It was almost funny to watch.

     Predictably, Sherlock just rolled his eyes and ignored Harkness, hurrying to catch up with the Doctor. Molly threw Jack a sympathetic glance. “Sorry, you won't get much luck there,” she told him quietly. “Sherlock's about as aware of romance and flirting as a rock.”

     Jack's gaze flicked from Sherlock to Molly, becoming soft with sympathy. “Have some experience with that?” he asked sympathetically.

     Molly didn't want to confirm it, but it was true, so she just gave a little shrug. It seemed enough for Jack, who just sighed. “Yeah, me too.” Surprisingly, his gaze flitted quickly to the Doctor, making Molly pause. What would it be like to be in love with the Doctor without his knowing? A man like that, so open and friendly, and so awe-inspiring? He had to be easy to fall in love with, and so easy to be hurt by.

     The small group halted at the edge of a cliff, staring down the quarry below. There was some sort of abandoned construction, something that might once have been high-tech but was now faded away to stone by the years. Molly looked at it with wonder. “Is it a city?”

     “A city or a hive, or a nest, or a conglomeration,” the Doctor corrected, lingering over each word, trying it out. “Like it was grown. But look, there. That's like pathways, roads? Must have been some sort of life, long ago.”

     Sherlock stared down at the city with his usual sharp gaze. “Must have lived here a long time,” he commented. “Those structures are old, much older than the decay.”

     Molly turned to the Doctor. “What happened to the people living here. What killed them?”

     “Time,” the Doctor said simply. “Just time. Everything's dying now. All the great civilizations have gone. This isn't just night. All the stars have burned up and faded away into nothing.” Molly looked up at the starless sky with a shudder. She'd known something wasn't right with that sky.

     “They must have an atmospheric shell,” Jack pointed out with a frown. “We should be frozen to death.”

     The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Well, Molly, Sherlock, and I, maybe. Not so sure about you, Jack.” Molly wasn't sure what he meant by that, but she could tell by Sherlock's intent gaze that he was trying to work it out. The Doctor was being unusually cryptic right now. Maybe, for once, she'd be better off trying to get answers from Sherlock right now.

     Molly turned back to the abandoned structures, melancholy setting in. “So after all those adventures, all those times we saved the human race, all the races,” she said softly, “and in the end, it's all for nothing, because there's no one left.”

     The Doctor shot her a sympathetic glance. “It matters to the people we've saved,” he pointed out. “As for the rest, who knows. I suppose we have to hope life will find a way.”

     There was a brief moment of silence as they considered what hope life could possibly have in this desolate landscape. Without warning, Jack broke the silence. “Well, he's not doing too bad.”

     He pointed out a man running down in the quarry. He was fleeing from a larger group, who all looked human from a distance, but whom Molly was willing to bet was some sort of tribe of aliens.

     “Is it me, or does that look like a hunt?” the Doctor asked. Without waiting for an answer, he took off at a run, towards the hunt. “Come on!”

     Molly followed him immediately, followed more slowly by Sherlock and Jack. The detective said nothing, keeping pace easily enough, but Jack chuckled, “Oh, I've missed this.”

     At Jack's remark, Molly had to wonder, why had the Doctor left Jack behind? And as much as she hated it, hated doubting him like that, a little voice in the back of her head kept asking, would he ever do that to her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sorry about the lack of Sherlock in this chapter, there just wasn't a whole lot of room to fit him in without it seeming shoehorned. Hopefully there'll be more opportunities for Jack flirting at Sherlock later, because you have no idea how much that amuses me. Of course, I'm horrible at writing both Sherlock and Jack, the former because I'm not nearly as clever as him and I'm not good at writing his snarky ranty dialogue, and the latter because I'm not good at writing romance or flirting of any kind. Still, I can try.
> 
> And yes, since we are now on Utopia, we are indeed nearing the end. I'm really hoping to finish this story off with a good 50 chapters, and since I'm one chapter 40 now, I think that's a reachable goal. I've really loved writing this story, and I hope you guys like how I'm planning to finish it up. Thanks for all the awesome reviews, guys. :)


	41. Utopia: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and companions try to find out more about the Futurekind and the year they've arrived in.

     They quickly caught up to the fleeing man. He ran straight into Jack, who helped keep him from stumbling forward. "I've got you," he assured him.

     The man's eyes were wide with terror. "They're coming!" he gasped out. "They're coming!"

     They all looked up to see what looked like a tribe of sharp-toothed humans chasing after them. Jack pulled out a revolver and pointed it at the tribe. The Doctor shot him a stern glare, warning, "Jack, don't you dare!" Jack hesitated, glaring reluctantly at the Doctor, but finally pointed it skyward, firing it. The gunshot stopped the tribe in their tracks. They stood silently watching the small group, hissing and baring their sharpened teeth.

     Sherlock stared at the group curiously, seeming completely devoid of fear. "What are they?" he asked curiously.

     The man who'd been running from them looked around wildly. "There's more of them. We've got to keep going."

     The Doctor assured him, "I've got a ship nearby. It's safe. It's not far, it's over there." He pointed up towards the ledge where they'd just been standing. Before they could move towards it, however, more of the tribespeople appeared on the ledge, effectively cutting them off from the TARDIS. The Doctor blinked. "Maybe not."

     "We're close to the silo," the man offered. "If we get to the silo, then we're safe."

     The Doctor turned to his entourage. "Silo?" he asked.

     "Silo," Jack agreed immediately.

     Molly nodded quickly. "Definitely the silo." Sherlock said nothing, just nodding silently. He seemed far too interested in the tribespeople. Molly had a sinking feeling he'd insist on staying behind to study them, damn the consequences. What was it with geniuses with zero regard for their own safety?

**SCENEBREAK**

     They made a break for the silo, pelting across the quarry as a tribe of demonic humanoids chased after them. Really, Molly should have known better than to expect anything else from a trip with the Doctor, even if it was Sherlock's first trip. At least he seemed to be doing pretty well with the running. Although, with the sort of adventures he'd had before the TARDIS, she shouldn't have doubted his ability to adapt to that aspect of TARDIS life.

     They finally reached the gates of the silo, behind which were two guards with guns. They were nearly to safety.

     "It's the Futurekind!" the man, who'd introduced himself as Padra, called out to the guards. "Open the gate!"

     They all slammed up against the gate, but the guards still wouldn't open them. "Show me your teeth!" one ordered.

     Padra repeated the order, and they all complied, showing the guards their human, non-sharpened teeth. The guards relaxed slightly. "Human! Let them in! Let them in!" The gates began to open automatically, and the group slipped quickly inside, staying behind the guards. "Close! Close!" a guard ordered. The gates slowly began to close, but the aliens, apparently the Futurekind, were getting closer, so one of the guards shot at the ground nearby with his automatic.

     The tribe halted, watching angrily as the gate closed before them. One of the creatures approached with a queer, sharp-toothed grin that sent shivers down Molly's spine. In a slow, hesitant speech, he told the guard, "Humans." He pointed at the Doctor and his group to show what he meant. "Humani. Make feast."

     The guard sneered at him from behind the safety of the gates. "Go back to where you came from." As the Futurekind remained unmoving, he grew angry, raising his gun at the tribe. "I said, go back. Back!"

     Jack glared irritably at the Doctor. "Oh, don't tell him to put his gun down," he grumbled, indicating the guard with his automatic still pointed at the Futurekind.

     The Doctor shrugged. "He's not my responsibility."

     The captain raised an eyebrow. "And I am?" he asked ironically. "Huh, that makes a change." Molly remembered his story of how the Doctor had abandoned him and suppressed another shudder. What had happened between those two?

     The alien that had stepped forward began to slowly back away from the raised gun, his people following suit. "Kind watch you," he warned unpleasantly. "Kind hungry." With that, he and the rest of the Futurekind slipped away back into the night.

     Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The Doctor turned to the guards that had let them in and said, "Thanks for that."

     They nodded curtly, one stepping forward and saying, "Right. Let's get you inside."

     The group began to follow him towards the silo. As they walked, Padra spoke up. "My name is Padra Toc Shafe Cane. Tell me. Just tell me, can you take me to Utopia?" Molly blinked in surprise. Utopia? What was Utopia?

     For the first time, the guard grinned. "Oh yes, sir. Yes, I can."

**SCENEBREAK**

     As they were led inside the silo, the Doctor started to ask one of the guards about the TARDIS. "It looks like a box, a big blue box. I'm sorry, but I really need it back. It's stuck out there."

     Almost overtop of him, Padra begged the guard, "I'm sorry, but my family were heading for the silo. Did they get here? My mother is Kistane Shafe Cane. My brother's name is Beltone."

     The guard told Padra, "The computers are down but you can check the paperwork." He turned and called, "Creet!" A boy no older than 13 came out with a clipboard. The guard informed him, "Passenger needs help."

     The boy, Creet, nodded shortly, then turned to Padra. "Right. What do you need?"

     As Padra talked to Creet, the guard turned back to the Doctor. "A blue box, you said?"

     The Time Lord nodded. "Big, tall, wooden. Says Police."

     "We're driving out for the last water collection," the guard told him. "I'll see what I can do."

     The Time Lord gave a relieved grin. "Thank you." The guard nodded, then turned and headed off. They were left with Padra and Creet.

     "Come on," the kid prompted. He led them to a narrow, curved hallway, where people sat lined up against the wall. It was barely wide enough for two people, so they had to squeeze past people hunched against the wall, trying to disturb them as little as possible. Whole families were seated together, and people on their own, sitting with what looked like their few worldly possessions. They watched the group pass with varying expressions of hope and despair.

     Molly looked down at them with a quiet sense of horror. At the end of days, this was what the human raced ended as. Refugees at world's end with nowhere left to go and nothing left but their hope. It was sad and oddly hopeful at the same time. After all this time, with no stars left, no planets to escape to, nothing but the darkness of space, this rag-tag bunch of humans still had their hope.

     “Kistane Shafe Cane,” Creet called out. He was leading them down the hallway, calling out for Padra's family. “Kistane Shafe Cane. Kistane and Biltone Shafe Cane?” No one responded; they just stared up at them with hollow expressions. “We're looking for a Kistane and Beltone Shafe Cane.”

     “The Shafe Canes, anyone?” Padra begged, staring imploringly at the people around them. “Kistane from Red Force Five? My name's Padra.”

     As Creet continued to call out for Padra's family, Sherlock spoke up again. “Where are you people planning to go?” The others all turned to him with surprise, prompting him to roll his eyes and explain, “They're clearly not planning to stay here forever. Look at the layout of the place, it's a holding area, not a permanent residence. Plus the fact that the wall behind up is hollow,” he gave it an experimental tap to prove his point, “the circular layout of the hallway, the stench of gasoline, the heat radiating from the wall, and the futuristic setting, I'd say that past this wall is some sort of spaceship or rocket. Now, no one builds a rocket without a destination in mind, therefore, there's a plan to leave here and that's why these people are here. The question is, where are they going?”

     “Utopia,” Creet answered shortly, then he returned to calling for Padra's family, ignoring the small group.

     Molly's brow furrowed. “What exactly is Utopia?” she asked.

     Sherlock rolled his eyes again. “The ridiculously optimistic notion that there's a perfect world without any flaw or unhappiness,” he snarked. “Nonsense of course.”

     The Doctor shot him a quick glare. “Cheerful sort, aren't you?” he said with equal snark.

     Jack, however, was staring at Sherlock with surprise and no short measure of charm. “Anyone ever tell you that brainy's the new sexy?” he quipped. Molly held back a snort of amusement as Sherlock rolled his eyes and ignored the captain.

     “I know what Utopia means,” she clarified somewhat sharply. “But I'm guessing they're referring to an actual place or planet called Utopia, not the idea. I'm not that thick, Sherlock.”

     Before Sherlock could respond, a woman stood, having heard Creet's call for Kistane Shafe Cane. “That's me,” she said warily.

     Padra's eyes widened, grinning with relief. “Mother?”

     Kistane gasped. “Oh, my god, Padra.” Padra went in for a tight hug, looking like he'd never let go again.

     A younger man stood up, looking equally shocked and thrilled. Padra let out a relieved laugh at the sight of him. “Beltone?”

     As the family reunited, Molly watched with a small smile. “Looks like there's hope even at the end of the world,” she said softly.

     The Doctor grinned brilliantly, turning to Molly as he said, “Oh, there's always hope. Look at you, the human race. Here, at the very end of the universe, after all the stars died out, you lot survived. You might have spent a million years evolving into clouds of gas, and another million as downloads, but you always revert to the same basic shape. The fundamental humans. End of the universe and here you are. Indomitable! That's the word. Indomitable! Ha!” His cheer was infectious. Molly couldn't help but grin back, equally excited about the end of the world.

     “So, what exactly are we doing here?” Sherlock asked sneeringly.

     The Doctor shrugged. “Having fun?” he offered.

     “But what's the point?” the detective pressed.

     “Does there really have to be one?” the Time Lord asked irritably. “Is there something wrong with just going out and seeing the universe?” They were passing by a door on the wall. The Doctor turned to it, pulling out his sonic screwdriver and pointing at it. He frowned. “Here, Jack, give us a hand with this. It's half deadlocked. I need you to overwrite the code. Let's find out where we are.”

     Together, they were able to open the door, having to work to push it open. The area inside was hollow, with the floor many feet below – the Doctor nearly fell in after opening the door. The others had to pull him back. The area inside stretched up way up over their heads, with an enormous rocket inside.

     Sherlock smirked. “Like I said, rocket.”

     The Doctor glared irritably at him, but could make no response. Instead, he turned to look at the rocket with wonder. “I hate to say it, but Sherlock's right. They're not refugees, they're passengers.”

     “Transport to Utopia,” Molly said softly as she looked at the rocket.

     The Doctor chuckled. “The perfect place. Hundred trillion years, it's the same old dream.” He turned to Jack. “You recognize those engines?”

     The captain shook his head. “Nope. Whatever it is, it's not rocket science. But it's hot, though.” Fierce heat radiated from the rocket, reminding her of the spaceship falling towards the sun. They quickly re-shut the door.

     “Boiling,” the Doctor agreed. “But if the universe is falling apart, what does Utopia mean?”

     Before anyone could offer an answer, an older man with white hair came up to the group, staring at them with uncertainty, and something like hope. “The Doctor?” he questioned, staring from one person to the next.

     The Time Lord raised his hand slightly. “That's me.”

     The old man's uncertainty faded, replaced by a huge grin. “Good! Good!” He shook the Doctor's hand energetically, to the Time Lord's bemusement, then began leading him away, still gushing, “Good, good!”

     The Doctor turned to his companions with a bemused expression. “It's good, apparently,” he quipped. He and his companions followed the old man, wondering what was so good about the Doctor.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The older man, who had introduced himself as Professor Yana, led them into a laboratory, where he immediately whisked the Doctor away to trade scientific talk. Sherlock tried to look unimpressed, but she could see he was itching to get his hands on the lab equipment, so far removed from his own time.

     They were greeted by a blue humanoid with almost insect-like appendages on her head, with a scaly look to her skin. “Chan welcome tho,” she greeted with a pleasant smile.

     Molly blinked slightly at the unusual greeting, but quickly smiled back, shaking her hand. “Hi, who are you?”

     “Chan Chatho tho,” the woman explained.

     Without even looking at her, Sherlock asked, “And the grating repetition of your name at the beginning and end of each sentence, is that a cultural thing, or a species thing?”

     Molly shot him a glare, hissing a warning, “Sherlock!” Chantho looked down awkwardly for a moment. “Sorry,” Molly apologized quietly.

     “Chan it's fine tho,” Chantho said with a slightly awkward smile.

     There was an awkward pause, finally broken by Jack, who held out a hand for Chantho to shake and gave her a dazzling smile. “Captain Jack Harkness,” he greeted suavely.

     Without even looking up, the Doctor warned, “Stop it.”

     Jack shot him an incredulous glare. “Can't I say hello to anyone?” he protested.

     Chantho smiled shyly. “Chan I do not protest tho,” she told the Time Lord.

     Jack grinned winningly at Chantho. “Maybe later, Blue.” He turned back to the Doctor and Yana, who were looking at some equipment. “So, what have we got here?”

     The Doctor ignored him, asking Yana, “And all this feeds into the rocket?”

     The professor nodded. “Yeah, except without a stable footprint, you see, we're unable to achieve escape velocity. If only we could harmonize the five impact patterns and unify them, well, we might yet make it.” He looked hopefully at the Doctor. “What do you think, Doctor? Any ideas?”

     “Well, er, basically, sort of...” he trailed off, hesitated, then shrugged. “Not a clue.”

     Yana blinked, the hope fading from his eyes. “Nothing?”

     The Doctor shrugged helplessly. “I'm not from around these parts. I've never seen a system like it. Sorry.”

     Professor Yana shook his head, smiling bravely. “No, no. I'm sorry. It's my fault. There's been so little help.” Molly felt a pang of sympathy for the old man. He'd been hoping for a way to Utopia for so long, and now that there had seemed to be hope, it was gone again.

     There was a light clatter from across the room. Everyone looked up to see Sherlock pulling a transparent container from Jack's bag. Inside, oddly enough, was a severed hand suspended in some form of liquid. Molly blinked in shock, looking from Sherlock to Jack. The detective didn't look all that surprised, merely raising an eyebrow and asking, “Experiment?”

     The Doctor's eyes widened in shock. “But that, that, that's my hand!” he sputtered.

     Jack just shrugged, looking unfazed. “I said I had a Doctor detector.”

     Chantho stared at the hand with shock and disgust. “Chan is this a tradition amongst your people tho?”

     Molly didn't give him a chance to answer. “Wait, your hand? What do you mean, you've got both hands.” The hand thing was pretty weird, granted, but she'd seen much worse from Sherlock over the years. It was more the fact that it was the Doctor's hand that was confusing and slightly weirding her out.

     “Long story,” the Doctor said dismissively. “I lost my hand Christmas Day, in a swordfight.”

     Molly raised an eyebrow. “But you've still got two hands.”

     The Doctor shrugged. “Yeah, and I grew another one.”

     The companion blinked. “You grew another one?” she repeated in surprise. She glanced from the hand, to him, to the hand again, then joked weakly, “Superior Time Lord biology, then?”

     The Time Lord gave a queer smile. “Something like that.”

     Professor Yana stared curiously at the Doctor. “Time Lord?” he repeated.

     The Doctor nodded. “Yeah, that's what I am, last of. Ever heard of them?” Yana and Chantho shook their heads. The Doctor frowned. “Legend or anything? Not even a myth?” When they shook their heads again, he blinked, looking a little crestfallen. “Blimey, end of the universe is a bit humbling.”

     “Chan it is said that I am the last of my species too tho,” Chantho said a little sadly.

     The Doctor blinked in surprise. He hadn't been paying attention when Chantho had introduced herself. “Sorry, what was your name.”

     The professor smiled proudly as he introduced her. “My assistant and good friend, Chantho. A survivor of the Malmooth. This was their planet, Malcassairo, before we took refuge.”

     “The city outside, that was yours?” the Doctor asked curiously.

     “Chan the conglomeration died tho,” Chantho told him sadly.

     The Doctor grinned brightly at this confirmation. “Conglomeration. That's what I said.”

     “You're supposed to say sorry,” Jack reminded him, shooting a glance at the last of the Malmooth.

     The Doctor deflated slightly. “Oh, yes. Sorry.” Molly rolled her eyes. He could really be clueless sometimes.

     As they continued to talk, Molly was left wondering about what the Doctor had said about regrowing his hand. She'd learned a lot of strange things about the Doctor since meeting him – the fact that he had two hearts, that he had a respiratory bypass system, that he was well over nine hundred. But this might very well take the cake. He could regrow limbs at will? He'd failed to mention that at any point in their adventures. It would have been a bit of a rude shock if his hand'd gotten blasted off during some chase and had suddenly started to grow back. She knew the Doctor was secretive, but why did he always have to hide these things?

     Another thing she'd been wondering; did this have something to do with regeneration? He'd mentioned it off-hand before, but she'd never gotten a full explanation as to what it was, though Jack Harkness seemed to know more about it. She wasn't sure why, but she had a feeling that it was going to become important, and soon.

     The Doctor's secrets never tended to end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's more Utopia for everybody. Gah, I always end up feeling so bad for Professor Yana. I mean, he had no choice but to change back into the Master, and he was such a brave, compassionate man. Makes you wonder what the Master could have been like if things had been different.
> 
> Anyway, I'll try to post again tomorrow, and hopefully I'll be able to wrap Utopia up soon and get on with The Sound of the Drums, the finish everything with Last of the Time Lords.
> 
> Alright, if anyone else has heard the news about Matt Smith, please message me because I'M FREAKING OUT AND I NEED SOMEONE TO FREAK OUT WITH!


	42. Utopia: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Yana work to get the rocket to fly.

     “So what about those things outside?” Jack asked, turning the conversation back on track. “The Beastie Boys. What are they?”

     The professor sighed. “We call them the Futurekind,” he explained, “which is a myth in itself, but it's feared they are what we will become, unless we reach Utopia.”

     “And Utopia is?” the Doctor prompted.

     The professor look at him in surprise. “Oh, every human knows of Utopia. Where have you been?”

     The Time Lord shrugged, trying to pass it off with, “Bit of a hermit.”

     The old man raised an eyebrow, looking at the Doctor's companions. “A hermit with friends?” he asked pointedly.

     “Hermits United,” the Doctor clarified, winning an amused grin from Molly and an eye roll from Sherlock. “We meet up every ten years and swap stories about caves. It's good fun, for a hermit. So, er, Utopia?”

     The professor was still looking at him oddly, but he went over to a monitor and turned it on, showing them some sort of blip of light. “The call came from across the stars, over and over again. Come to Utopia. Originating from that point.”

     The Doctor looked at the screen, narrowing his eyes as he focused on the point. “Where is that?”

     The professor sighed. “Oh, it's far beyond the Condensate Wilderness, out towards the Wildlands and the Dark Matter reefs, calling us in. The last of the humans scattered across the night.”

     The Time Lord turned curiously to Yana, asking, “What do you think's out there?” He liked this human; he was brilliant, and he was working so hard to save his fellow humans. That was what he loved about the human race, their compassion, and their refusal to ever stop hoping.

     “We can't know,” the old man said with a shrug. “A colony, a city, some sort of haven? The Science Foundation created the Utopia Project thousands of years ago to preserve mankind, to find a way of surviving beyond the collapse of reality itself. Now perhaps they found it. Perhaps not.” He turned back to the Doctor with a smile that was half sad, half hopeful. “But it's worth a look, don't you think?”

     The Doctor grinned. “Oh, yes,” he agreed cheerfully. He didn't notice the old man stiffening, his gaze becoming unfocused, as he leaned in towards the monitor. “And the signal keeps modulating, so it's not automatic. That's a good sign someone's out there. And that's, oh, that's a navigation matrix. So you can fly without stars to guide you.” When the professor didn't answer, he turned to look at him with a frown. The old man had a distant look in his eyes, wearing a slightly worried expression. “Professor?”

     He had to call his name several times before the professor finally responded, shaking off his strange mood. “I, er, ahem, right, that's enough talk. There's work to do.” He turned back to his equipment, ignoring the Doctor and his companions. “Now if you could leave, thank you.”

     The Doctor frowned. “You all right?” he asked with concern.

     “Yes, I'm fine. And busy,” the professor added pointedly.

     “Except that rocket's not going to fly, is it?” the Doctor asked gently. “This footprint mechanism thing, it's not working.”

     The professor shrugged. “We'll find a way,” he told the Doctor. It sounded more like a dull mantra than anything with any real hope behind it.

     “You're stuck on this planet,” the Doctor stated quietly. Yana sighed, not denying it. “And you haven't told them, have you? That lot out there, they still think they're going to fly.”

     The old man's shoulders sagged, tiredness gleaming in his eyes. In a weary tone, he told the Doctor, “Well, it's better to let them live in hope.”

     The Doctor felt a rush of admiration for the old man. “Quite right, too. And I must say, Professor er, what was it?”

     “Yana,” the professor supplied.

     “Professor Yana.” He'd been looking at Yana's work for a while, and even as they'd been talking, his Time Lord brain had been whirring away to figure it out. “This new science is well beyond me, but all the same, a boost reversal circuit, in any time frame, must be a circuit which reverses the boost. So, I wonder, what would happen if I did this?” He stood, connected a few cables, and soniced them. Power surged through the machine, winning a grin of triumph from the Doctor.

     Yana and Chantho gaped at the machine, staring at the Doctor in wonder. “Chan it's working tho!” Chantho laughed in relief.

     “But how did you do that?” Yana asked, looking like he hardly dared to believe it.

     The Time Lord leaned casually against the machine, grinning brilliantly. “Oh, we've been chatting away, I forgot to tell you. I'm _brilliant._ ”

**SCENEBREAK**

     As everyone in the silo prepared for the rocket's departure, Molly offered to help with getting people loaded. As she helped, she ran into the kid Creet from earlier. She stopped him as he was passing by. “Hey there Creet, you getting ready to board?”

     The boy nodded with a short, “Yes, miss.”

     Molly felt a pang of sympathy for the boy, so young and made to work in a place so devoid of hope. "Are you traveling with anyone? Friends, family?"

     Creet shook his head. "No, miss."

     The matter-of-fact way he said it was painful to hear. "Well, see if you can find someone, will you?" she asked with a slight smile. "It can get lonely out there, and there's nothing worse than traveling alone."

     For the first time, the kid smiled. "I will, miss," he promised.

     Molly smiled back, telling the boy, "Go on, get to your seat. I'm gonna go back and help the professor. Good luck, Creet."

     "You too, miss Hooper," the kid said sincerely. With a last grin, he turned and headed towards the rocket.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The companion ran into Chantho, and the two went back to Yana's lab, where the Doctor, Sherlock, and Jack were hooking up cables to the machine that led out of the TARDIS. Apparently, the guard's water scouting mission had led them to find the blue box, and they'd dropped it off a few minutes ago.

     Molly grinned with relief. "Thank god they found her." She turned to the Doctor, who was fiddling with Yana's machine. "Let's try not to lose the TARDIS again anytime soon, alright?"

     He chuckled. "That's a promise."

     The companion groaned. "Aw, don't say that, now you've jinxed it." The Time Lord just laughed.

     Chantho had gone straight from Molly's side to Yana. "Chan Professor, are you all right tho?" The old man was staring at the TARDIS with a very queer expression, one that was knowing, eager, terrified, and confused at once. Molly felt a shiver at the look in his eyes. She wasn't sure what it was, but something was clearly wrong.

     The professor groaned, leaning against a seat and holding a hand to his head, but he waved off Chantho's concern impatiently. "Yes, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine. Just get on with it." Chantho hesitated, clearly not convinced, but after a moment turned and went back to help Jack and the Doctor.

     Jack turned to Molly. “Connect those circuits into the spar, same as that last lot. But quicker.”

     Molly nodded. “Got it.”

     She set to work, listening as the Doctor went to Yana's side. “You don't have to keep working,” he told the professor gently. “We can handle it.”

     “It's just a headache,” the professor told him dismissively. “It's just, just noise inside my head, Doctor. Constant noise inside my head.”

     The Doctor frowned. “What sort of noise?”

     Yana's gaze became unfocused again, his eyes half-closing, as though he was listening to something no one else could hear. “It's the sound of drums,” he said quietly. “More and more, as though it's getting closer.”

     Molly blinked in surprise. That didn't sound good. The Doctor seemed to share this sentiment, for he asked, “When did it start?”

     Yana shrugged, still trying to pass it off as nothing. “Oh, I've had it all my life. Every waking hour.” He got back to his feet, chuckling. “Still, no rest for the wicked.” He returned to work, though the Doctor still seemed to be worried about him.

     Chantho came to work beside Molly. She felt bad for the Malmooth and about Sherlock's earlier treatment of her. “Sorry about earlier,” she said quietly.

     The Malmooth smiled. “Chan it's fine tho,” she assured Molly. She looked up at the Doctor, who was arguing with Jack about something, while Sherlock looked on with impatience. “Chan how did you meet your friends tho?”

     Molly chuckled as she thought about it. “Well, I just met Jack a few hours ago actually, he's an old friend of the Doctor's,” she explained. “I met the Doctor a year ago, at the hospital where I used to work. It was... interesting, to say the least. I introduced him to Sherlock, who I met around four years ago, at the same hospital.”

     “Chan you're a doctor tho?” Chantho asked with interest.

     Molly nodded. “Sort of. I'm a pathologist, or I was anyway. How about you? How long have you been with the professor?”

     At the mention of Yana, Chantho smiled shyly, risking a quick glance at him. “Chan seventeen years tho,” she told Molly.

     Molly could tell that Chantho really liked Yana. “Seems like you're good friends,” she said with a smile.

     Chantho nodded. “Chan I adore him tho,” she admitted softly.

     “Have you told him?” the companion asked.

     The Malmooth shook her head shyly. “Chan I don't think he even notices tho.”

     Molly nodded sadly. “I know how that feels,” she said sadly. She stole a quick glance at Sherlock, who was working beside Yana.

     What was it going to be like, traveling with the man she liked so much, but who never noticed her?

**SCENEBREAK**

     When everything was ready, Yana began speaking to the captain over the intercom, which seemed to be a bit flaky, the screen occasionally going blank. Molly came up to Yana. “I've finished over there, anything else I can help with?”

     “Yes, if you could.” He pointed at one of the buttons on the monitor. “Just press the reboot key every time the picture goes.”

     Molly nodded. “Got it.” She positioned herself by the key, pressing it. The captain's face zapped back onto the screen.

     “ _Are you still there?_ ” the captain asked Yana.

     The professor nodded. “Ah, present and correct. Send your man inside. We'll keep the levels down from here.”

     On the monitor, they were able to watch as a man entered a chamber, clothed in protective gear. Molly didn't entirely know what his job was, but apparently they needed to reach something inside that chamber to get the rocket started. “ _He's inside,_ ” the captain told them. “ _And good luck to him._ ”

     “Captain, keep the dials below the red,” the professor told him.

     The Doctor pointed at the monitor, where the man wore the protective gear. “Where is that room?” he asked curiously.

     “It's underneath the rocket,” Yana told him. “Fix the couplings and the footprint can work. But the entire chamber is flooded with stet radiation.”

     The Time Lord's brow furrowed. “Stet? Never heard of it.”

     Yana shook his head. “You wouldn't want to. But it's safe enough, if we can hold the radiation back from here.” They all watched anxiously as the man on the monitor worked. For a while, it seemed like it was going to work, that the couplings would be fixed in time. Then an alarm started blaring.

     Chantho's eyes widened. “Chan we're losing power tho!”

     “Radiation's rising!” The Doctor soniced a few controls, but nothing seemed to be working.

     “The chamber's going to flood,” Yana breathed.

     On the monitor, they could hear the captain ordering the man out of the chamber. Meanwhile, Jack hurried over to some disconnected cables. “We can jump start the override,” he told the Doctor. He went to connect the cables.

     The Doctor's eyes widened. “Don't! It's going to flare!” he warned, but it was too late. Electricity flared from the cables, surging through Jack. Molly watched in horror as he dropped to the ground, dead, actually dead this time.

     When she finally tore her gaze from Jack, she saw that the man on the monitor had been disintegrated by the stet radiation. She felt a flare of panic. So much had gone wrong in the last few moments, and now thousands of lives depended on them getting this rocket to work. What were they going to do?

     Molly hurried down to Jack's side, checking for a heartbeat, even though she knew it was too late. She turned back to the Doctor. “He's dead,” she said softly.

     Once again, the Doctor seemed unaffected, but Yana looked sadly at Jack's body. “Oh, I'm so sorry,” he said softly. He almost reminded her of the Doctor when he said that.

     The Doctor turned to Yana, looking thoughtful. He gestured to the monitor and asked, “The chamber's flooded with radiation, yes?”

     Yana nodded dejectedly. “Without the couplings, the engines will never start. It was all for nothing.”

     The Time Lord shrugged. “Oh, I don't know.” He looked down at Jack with a queer expression, no remorse evident in his eyes. Molly suppressed another shudder. How could a man who blamed himself for absolutely _everything_ look at a fallen friend so coldly? The Doctor turned back to Yana and said, “It strikes me, Professor, you've got a room which no man can enter without dying. Is that correct?”

     Yana looked baffled by the question, but nodded. “Yes.”

     “Well...”

     Suddenly, Jack's body jerked, his eyes snapping open as he tried desperately to draw air into his lungs. Molly, who'd had her hands on his chest, looking for a pulse, jerked back in surprise, letting out a scream. She'd been certain this time that he was dead! How was this possible?

     The Doctor grinned at everyone's reactions to Jack's return. “I think I've got just the man,” he quipped.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Jack and the Doctor went down to the chamber, the Doctor to make sure nothing was sabotaged this time. Molly and Sherlock were left watching them on the monitor, helping keep the radiation levels steady. They were working with Chantho and Yana, who had listened with interest as she'd explained the TARDIS and how they used her to time travel. Now, everyone was off working, or listening to Jack and the Doctor on the monitor. Molly watched as the Doctor and Jack conversed, finally explaining Jack's apparent immortality. It had been a year since she'd known the Doctor, and he still seemed so lost, so in pain whenever he talked about Rose.

     She was so caught up in their conversation, it was several moments before she noticed Yana staring at the TARDIS. He had that same enraptured expression as before as he looked at the blue box. It was unnerving.

     Molly left Sherlock to the work and headed over to Yana. “What's wrong?” she asked warily.

     “Chan Professor, what is it tho?” Chantho asked anxiously.

     Yana stared wide-eyed at the TARDIS, that same strange mix of emotions on his face, more intense than before. Eagerness, terror, and that hint of recognition. “Time travel,” he breathed. “They say there was time travel back in the old days. I never believed. But what would I know? Stupid old man. Never could keep time. Always late, always lost. Even this thing never worked.” He pulled out a watch from his pocket, turning it over in his hand. “Time and time and time again. Always running out on me.”

     Molly hadn't heard the last part. All she could do was stare at the watch in utter shock. It was an old fob watch, fairly large, with an intricate, circular inscription on the face. Molly's hand went automatically to her shoulder, where for three months in Civil War America she'd carried the satchel that held the Doctor's identical fob watch. She no longer had the satchel, but the Doctor had miniaturized the watch as a birthday present, and now was the size of her thumb, hanging around her neck on a chain. She fingered it lightly, knowing without looking that it was nearly identical to Yana's.

     In as even a tone as she could manage, she asked Yana, “Where did you get that watch?” Sherlock looked up from the monitor at her tone, turning to her with his sharp gaze. She knew he could tell something was up, but she wasn't giving any explanations at the moment. Not when she wasn't even sure what was going on.

     Yana shrugged, barely glancing at it. _Because of the perception filter,_ her brain told her, but she forced herself not to jump to conclusions. “Oh, it's only an old relic. Like me. I was found with it.”

     Molly frowned. “Found with it? What do you mean?” She tried to keep the urgency from her tone. If she was right about what this watch meant, then that changed everything.

     “An orphan in the storm,” Yana breathed. He hardly seemed to know what he was saying anymore. He was too caught up in the TARDIS. “I was a naked child found on the coast of the Silver Devastation. Abandoned, with only this.”

     One more question. One more question, then she'd know. “Have you ever opened it?”

     “Why would I?” the professor breathed. “It's broken.”

     She was right.

     Her thoughts exploded into fragments, running together in their urgency. _TimeLordYanaisTimeLordtheDoctor'snothelasttelltheDoctorhavetotelltheDoctorlethimtellYananotalonenotthelasthedoesn'thavetobealone._

     As calmly as she could, she told Yana, “Listen, I'm going to see if the Doctor needs help. Sherlock, with me.” The detective raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue as she led him out of the room.

     The moment they were out of earshot, Sherlock stated, “You recognized the watch.”

     Molly nodded distractedly. “Yeah, not now, Sherlock, we need to get to the Doctor.” She led him through the hallways until they were able to reach the room where the Doctor and Jack were working, rushing around, flipping up switches. The Doctor turned to Molly and Sherlock as they entered. “Ah, nearly there,” he told them. “The footprint, it's a gravity pulse. It stamps down, the rocket shoots up. Bit primitive. It'll take the both of us to keep it stable - ”

     Molly interrupted his ranting. “Doctor, Yana has a watch, a fob watch, like this one, your watch!” She held up the watch on the chain. The Doctor froze, staring at the miniature watch in horror. “It's the same watch, almost same writing.”

     The Doctor stared at the watch with something that mixed horror and hope. “Don't be ridiculous,” he breathed.

     Sherlock's gaze flicked from the Doctor to Molly. “You think Yana is a Time Lord,” he realized.

     Jack paused, turning to him in surprise. “But that's impossible, there aren't any other Time Lords,” he reminded Sherlock.

     Molly ignored them and told the Doctor, “It's the same one, I'm sure of it.”

     The Doctor shook his head slightly. “It can't be.”

     An alarm blared overhead. Sherlock and Jack hurried to the controls, working to keep the radiation steady. Jack asked, “You really think Yana could be a Time Lord?”

     Molly nodded. “You might not be the last anymore, Doctor.” He didn't respond, looking as zoned out as Yana had seemed earlier. Gently, she prompted, “That's good, isn't it?”

     The Doctor snapped out of it slightly. “Yes, it is. Course it is. Depends which one. Brilliant, fantastic, yeah. But they died, the Time Lords. All of them. They died.”

     “Not if he was human, he could've survived,” Molly argued.

     The Time Lord turned suddenly to Molly, tone suddenly urgent. “What did he say, Molly? What did he say?”

     Molly shrugged helplessly. “Not much. I think there's a perception filter on the watch, like yours, he couldn't really seem to see it.”

     “What about now?” the Doctor asked urgently. “Can he see it now?”

     Molly had a sinking feeling in her chest. She'd thought the survival of another Time Lord would be a good thing, but not if the Doctor was reacting this way. “I think so, yeah,” she told him weakly.

     “If he escaped the Time War,” Jack pointed out, “then it's the perfect place to hide. The end of the universe.”

     Molly suddenly remembered something from earlier, one of her earliest travels with the Doctor. “Remember what the Face of Boe said? 'You are not alone.'”

     The Doctor froze at the words, as did Sherlock. The two geniuses locked glances. “You think - ?” Sherlock started.

     “Yeah,” the Time Lord confirmed. He went off to the monitor to check that the rocket had taken off. As he did, Molly turned to Sherlock. “What is it?” she asked urgently.

     “You are not alone,” the detective repeated. “YANA – You Are Not Alone.”

     Molly felt her blood freeze. “It wasn't a promise,” she breathed. “It was a warning. We have to get to Yana now!”

**SCENEBREAK**

     After getting through the locked door to the control room and running to avoid the Futurekind that had gotten inside, they were finally able to reach Yana's lab. The door to the lab was locked when they got there. The Doctor pounded on the door, more frantic now. “Professor! Professor, let me in! Let me in!” When no response came, he turned to Jack. “Jack, get the door open now!” As the captain tried to pry the door open, the Doctor continued to try and get it open. “Professor! Professor, where are you?! Professor! Professor, are you there? Please, I need to explain. Whatever you do, don't open that watch.”

     As the Doctor begged, devilish screeches sounded from down the hallway. Molly froze. “The Futurekind!” The tribespeople had followed them, and were closing in. Jack finally managed to get the door open, and everyone rushed into the room.

     The scene that greeted them was chaotic. Chantho was on the ground, dead, and Yana was standing inside the TARDIS doorframe, clutching his side, clearly injured. The Doctor raced towards the TARDIS, but Yana slammed the door in his face. The Doctor banged on the door, shouting, “Let me in. Let me in! I'm begging you. Everything's changed! It's only the two of us! We're the only ones left! Just let me in! ”

     Molly went to help Chantho, but a quick check confirmed she was dead. Jack and Sherlock were working to keep the door closed while the Futurekind tried to get in.

     Suddenly, a golden light began to glow from inside the TARDIS, gleaming from the windows. The Futurekind were working harder to open the door; Jack and Sherlock were struggling to keep it shut. “Doctor! You'd better think of something!” Jack shouted.

     The glow faded, replaced by a sharp laugh from inside. A new voice sounded from inside, cruelly casual. “Now then, Doctor - ooo, new voice. Hello, hello.” His voice oscillated in a Moriarty-esque way. Molly felt something inside screeching against how _wrong_ it sounded.

     The voice continued, “Anyway, why don't we stop and have a nice little chat while I tell you all my plans and you can work out a way to stop me, I don't think.”

     The Doctor was properly panicked now. He was staring at the TARDIS with wide, terrified eyes, pain heavy in his voice. “I'm asking you really properly. Just stop. Just think!”

     The new voice paused, then sounded again, more firmly. “Use my name.”

     The Doctor blinked helplessly at the TARDIS. “Master,” he breathed. “I'm sorry.”

     “Tough!” the voice, the Master, cried.

     The TARDIS began dematerializing, and the Futurekind had nearly broken through the door. “I can't hold out much longer, Doctor!” Jack cried.

     The Doctor pointed his sonic screwdriver at the TARDIS as it vanished. The TARDIS was gone, and the Futurekind were nearly through the door. Molly could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage as the door gave way...

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Edited, cause I realized Molly shouldn't recognize Saxon - she's been away for a year, she wouldn't've been around for elections.
> 
> Yeah, sorry if the end seems rushed, I wanted to get the chapter done. Have I mentioned how sorry I always end up feeling for Yana? Poor guy didn't have any choice in the matter, and he was willing to sacrifice himself to save the human race. :(
> 
> I'll start on Sound of the Drums tomorrow.
> 
> Sorry if there's a lack of Sherlock in this chapter, I fit him in where I could. There should be more of him next episode, though.


	43. Sound of the Drums: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and company try to find the Master - and discover he's become Prime Minister.

     The first thing Molly felt as they arrived in an alley in London was an overwhelming sense of nausea and a splitting headache. She leaned against a nearby wall, clutching her head and trying really hard not to puke. "What the hell was that?" she growled out.

     "Time travel without a capsule," the Doctor answered, looking better off than Molly or Sherlock, but still a little green around the gills. "That's a killer."

     Jack seemed alright - probably from practice, since it was his Vortex Manipulator they'd used to get there. "Still, at least we made it," he pointed out, looking around at where they'd landed. "Earth, twenty first century by the looks of it. Talk about lucky."

     The Doctor rolled his eyes and reminded Jack, "That wasn't luck, that was me."

     Molly blanched as she remembered the Master stealing the TARDIS, and how close the Futurekind had gotten to getting them.

      _The TARDIS had disappeared, and the Futurekind were nearly through the door. Now Sherlock, Jack, Molly, and the Doctor were all working to keep the door shut, but the Doctor was also trying to sonic Jack's Vortex Manipulator. "Hold still!" he growled impatiently. "Don't move! Hold it still!"_

_“I'm telling you, it's broken,” Jack told him impatiently, “It hasn't worked for years.”_

_“That's because you didn't have me,” the Doctor snapped. He gave a short cry of triumph when the Vortex Manipulator lit up. The Time Lord grabbed hold of it, ordering sharply, “Molly, Sherlock, grab hold, now!” They obeyed quickly. Just as the Futurekind got through the door, the Doctor activated the Vortex Manipulator, sending them screeching through the Time Vortex, until they arrived on Earth._

     “The moral is,” Jack decided as they headed down the alley and back onto the street, “if you're going to get stuck at the end of the universe, get stuck with an ex-Time Agent and his vortex manipulator.” The effects had basically faded from their rather unorthodox flight, though Molly still felt a little shaky. Sherlock seemed sort of white in the face, though he hadn't said anything.

     “Really?” Sherlock asked sarcastically. “I rather thought it would've been don't let the psychotic Time Lord steal the only comfortable form of transport.” He ignored Jack and turned to the Doctor. “I'm assuming that this 'regeneration' you referred to earlier is what allowed Yana to change his voice and appearance.”

     Molly's brow furrowed. “I keep hearing about regeneration, but so far no one's explained it.” She sent a slightly irritable glance toward the Doctor. Trust him to not explain something important until it was too late. “Care to shed some light?”  
     The Doctor sighed, seeming irritated that he had to take the time to explain it. He fired off a quick explanation: “Time Lords have this thing, this ability, when we're dying. Our cells start rebuilding themselves, healing us, but also changing us. DNA, voice, face, personality slightly, everything.”

     Molly stared at the Doctor in shock. “You're saying that anytime in the last year you could've turned into an entirely different person and you didn't think to warn me?” she asked incredulously. Normally, she wouldn't get this irritated, but it'd been a rough day. “All those times we could've died, and you couldn't' have taken two seconds to warn me?”

     “Well, it really wasn't an issue until now,” the Time Lord snarked. His brow furrowed as he turned to Sherlock. “Hold up, how'd you know his appearance changed?”

     “Because I know his voice,” Sherlock said simply. Without explaining, he hurried past the group, heading towards a nearby shop window, where a TV inside was displaying some sort of news station. A homeless man sat slumped against the wall, staring morosely at the screen. He was tapping out some sort of rhythm with his fingers – _da-da-da dum, da-da-da dum, da-da-da dum._ Bewildered, the rest of the travelers followed the detective, who pointed to the man on the screen. “That's him.”

     Molly studied the man, baffled. “Who's he?”

     Jack looked at her in surprise. “He's been in the news for months. How do you not know him?”

     “Haven't been to Earth in a year, sorry,” Molly said a little irritably. “So who is he?”

     “Harold Saxon, Britain's new Prime Minister,” Sherlock supplied.

     Molly felt a shiver run down her spine. The psychotic Time Lord was now Prime Minister of Britain? Even if he'd been a good Time Lord like the Doctor, that wouldn't have been good news. A bad one? She didn't even want to think about it. “Prime Minister?” she repeated shakily.

     The Doctor let out a low whistle. “The Master is Prime Minister of Great Britain,” he stated, sounding like he couldn't believe it. On-screen, Saxon smiled, waving to the crowd, looking for all the world like a confident politician. A blond woman came to his side, sharing a kiss with Saxon. Rings were visible on both of their hands. The Doctor's brow furrowed. “The Master and his wife?”

     On-screen, Saxon stood outside of the building designated Saxon Headquarters, speaking to the crowd. “ _This country has been sick,_ ” he told the listening crowd. “ _This country needs healing. This country needs medicine._ ” He looked directly at the camera, suddenly wearing a dangerous smirk as he added, “ _In fact, I'd go so far as to say that what this country really needs right now, is a Doctor._ ”

**SCENEBREAK**

     They hurried back into the alley as quickly as they could, now that they knew how far-reaching the power of the Master was. The Doctor still seemed somewhat in shock. “Alright. The Master's the Prime Minister. That's... definitely quite a bit not good.” He ran a hand distractedly through his wild hair, ruffling it in his frustration. “Alright. So. Prime Minister. Now what?” He turned suddenly to Sherlock. “How did you know that was Saxon's voice?” he asked abruptly

     Sherlock pulled out his phone, flipping quickly through some old texts. When he got the one he wanted, he pulled it up for the Doctor to see. “My brother holds a position of power in the government. He had his suspicions about Harold Saxon some months ago and asked me to look into it. He didn't tell me anything to make me think it was worth my time, but I remember the voice from a clip he sent me of one of Saxon's talks.”

     The Doctor's tone grew more urgent. “That brother of yours, any chance we could talk to him? Wouldn't mind having an ally in the government at this point. Or more information on Saxon.”

     Sherlock nodded. “I think he owes me a favor or two.”

     Molly turned to Sherlock with a worried glance. “Wait. Does Mycroft know you're alive?”

     Sherlock didn't answer.

**SCENEBREAK**

     A half hour later, they found themselves in a warehouse much like the one Molly and the Doctor had met Sherlock in. They'd been picked up by black car with tinted windows, with a driver in a tux and black shades. Molly practically expected them to pull up to MIB headquarters, but she supposed the dinky warehouse worked too. Mysterious and non-descript. She could see dramatics ran in the family.

     She'd never met Mycroft Holmes personally, but she'd heard a bit about him from Sherlock and John, though the extent of his influence was never really made clear. It would definitely be interesting to meet the older brother of Sherlock Holmes. Even in the present danger they were in, she couldn't help but feel curious. What could a relative of Sherlock's possibly be like?

     They were met inside by a somewhat stocky man with a queer smile that left her in no doubt that he was Sherlock's brother. He nodded briefly to her. “Molly Hooper, I presume,” he greeted.

     She nodded. “And you must be Mycroft.”

     He continued that queer smile of his. While it was smug and slightly knowing, there seemed to be nothing malicious in it. Yet. “Indeed. I can only imagine the things my brother has been saying about me, but moving on.” He turned to Jack, his smile becoming more of a smirk. “Well, here's a face I didn't expect to see. Captain Jack Harkness, head of Torchwood. Tell me, how long did it take your little establishment to figure out what Saxon was up to? Or did you just bumble around with typical Torchwood subtlety until you happened upon an answer?”

     Molly frowned. Torchwood. Where had she heard that word before. Then she saw the Doctor's face, the hurt and loss in his expression, and she remembered. Torchwood were the ones responsible for Canary Wharf. “You work for Torchwood?” he asked in a tone shaky with rage.

     Jack sighed. “I knew this wouldn't be a fun conversation. Yes, I work for Torchwood, but I swear to you, it's different. It's changed. There's only half a dozen of us now.”

     “Everything Torchwood did,” the Doctor practically growled, “and you're part of it?”

     “The old regime was destroyed at Canary Wharf,” Jack told him firmly. “I rebuilt it, I changed it, and when I did that, I did it for you, in your honor.”

     “He's quite right,” Mycroft intercepted lazily. “Torchwood's gone from a top-notch facility to five idiots bumbling around the city trying to keep aliens under wraps. I really wouldn't be too worried about it.” His gaze shifted over to the Doctor, sharpening with interest and curiosity, seeming more intense than even Sherlock's ever was. “And last but not least, the legendary Doctor.” He held out a hand, which the Time Lord warily shook. “We've had our eye on you for some time. It's a pleasure to finally meet you.”

     The Doctor gave a tight smile. “Can't say I like the sound of that, but we'll save that for later,” he said pleasantly, though Molly could hear an edge to his tone. “Now, what do you know about Saxon?”

     Mycroft's expression immediately grew weary, tiredness gleaming in his eyes. “Very little, to be honest,” he said with a sigh. “Harold Saxon's records stretch back for years, but it's a very patchy job. A child could see through it.”

     “You think the records are forged,” Sherlock realized.

     Mycroft fixed him with an irritated glare. “As I tried to tell you months ago, yes.” He turned back to the Doctor and continued, “The most I can make of it is that up until eighteen months ago, there was no Harold Saxon, only faulty records that no one bothered to check. Then he showed up, blazed through the ranks, and captured the nation's heart. But there's nothing natural about the way he won that election. His speeches, there's no substance to them, no plan or promises or anything of value, and yet he won by a landslide. The people adore him, but there seems little reason for them to.”

     He turned to Jack with a knowing expression. “What about you, Captain? What were your thoughts on the election?”

     “I was planning on voting for Saxon, actually,” he admitted.

     “Any particular reason why?”

     Harkness shrugged, his expression becoming unfocused. “Dunno. There was just something about him. Something you could trust. Can't really remember what he talked about in his speeches, all I know is that it was good. He was someone you could trust.” As he spoke, Molly noticed his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the side of his leg. _Da-da-da dum, da-da-da dum, da-da-da dum._ She frowned. That same rhythm again. Why did it keep popping up?

     Mycroft smirked, the turned back to the Doctor. “You see? Even the good Captain here has fallen for Saxon's charm, and with little persuasion. Saxon seems completely unversed in the finer points of political etiquette, yet he has a nation eating out of his hand. It's unnatural. Ask anyone who voted for him, you'll get the same answer. They don't remember any of his speeches or the promises that he's made, just the sound of his voice and the fact they can trust him.”

     The Doctor frowned. “How has he managed all this? The Master was always sort of hypnotic, but what you're talking about is on a massive scale. I've no idea how he could've managed that.”

     The elder Holmes raised an eyebrow. “I see you know more about Saxon than I do,” he prompted.

     “He's a Time Lord, like me, he's called the Master, and he's dangerous,” the Doctor told him firmly. “More dangerous than anything you've faced in your entire life.”

     Mycroft's unblinking gaze became grave. “I believe you,” he said quietly. “Which is why, as of now, I'm going underground. I'm afraid I'm not going to be much used to you after all.”

     The Doctor's brow creased. “Wait, what? Why?”

     The human sighed. “There will be no report or broadcast of this, but earlier today, the entire Cabinet died while Saxon was in the room.” The Doctor's expression hardened at this, pain flashing in his eyes. Molly felt a stab of sympathy. The Time Lord seemed to be blaming himself for his fellow Time Lord's actions, even though none of this was his fault. Not that that had ever stopped him before. Mycroft continued, “All my influence hinges on subtlety and power plays, but Saxon has no subtlety. He's like wildfire. He does whatever he wants without regard for consequence or politics, and there's nothing I can do to stop him. My politics can't battle his technology, or whatever he's using to sway people to his side. I'll be better off playing from the dark from now on, where I might at least be able to do some good.” He turned to Sherlock, something like concern flashing in his eyes. “Take care, Sherlock,” he finally said. “Don't do anything too stupid while I'm gone.”

     Sherlock stared back, his expression carefully controlled, but Molly could see the faint hint of emotion in his eyes. “Likewise,” was all he said.

     Mycroft turned and began walking away, calling out over his shoulder, “My driver will take you wherever you need to go, but after that, you're on your own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, but last chapter was extra-long, so it kind of evens out. Anyway, a few people reminded me that Mycroft should be included in this, since he's practically the British Government, which got me thinking about what effects Saxon's reign would have on him. He's too smart not to have noticed that something was up, but Saxon's influence would be way too strong for Mycroft to combat. All he can do is disappear and use the last of his resources to cover his tracks. He may be the British Government, but his power, as he says, relies on politics - and Saxon has no regard for politics.
> 
> More tomorrow, again, sorry for the short chapter, but I hope the departure from canon made up for it. Expect more of that in the following chapters. Also, I made it here so that it could've been either way about Mycroft knowing whether Sherlock was alive or not, since we won't know for sure until season 3 comes out, but I'm pretty sure he knows. He knew in the canon series, after all, and he'd be an invaluable resource in hunting down Moriarty's network.


	44. Sound of the Drums: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and gang go to Sherlock's apartment.

     After the meeting with Mycroft, they were led back to the car by Mycroft's MIB-esque driver. As he held the door open for them, he asked, “Where to?”

     The group hesitated, everyone looking to the Doctor for an answer. He rubbed the back of his neck distractedly. “We need more information about Saxon. There's gotta be a laptop, computer, something.”

     “My flat,” Sherlock offered immediately. “My laptop should be there somewhere, and I doubt anyone's still in there.”

     The Doctor nodded. “Take us to 221B Baker Street,” he told the driver.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The car dropped them off just outside Sherlock's apartment building, then drove off. They were on their own now.

     Sherlock took a quick look in the window, then announced, “Mrs. Hudson's not there, it's safe to go in.” Molly didn't ask how he knew, she just took his word for it as he let them into the building. They filed up the stairs, waiting as Sherlock got the apartment door open for them.

     As he went to unlock the door, it swung open at his touch, letting out a loud _creak_ making them all freeze. They tried to backtrack down the stairs, but it was too late. A familiar voice called out, “Hello? Is that you, Mrs. Hudson?” followed by a figure stepping out from behind the door.

     Molly blanched. “Lestrade!”

     The detective inspector didn't even seem to notice her. His attention was solely focused on Sherlock, his face going sheet-white. “Sherlock,” he breathed.

     The Doctor shot Sherlock an irritated glare. “Oh yeah, no one's home, we're completely safe here,” he snarked.

     Sherlock glared back, but didn't respond, instead turning to Lestrade. He rolled his eyes at the gaping cop. “Yes, I'm alive, yes, I'm really here, now if you could stop gaping like an idiot, I'd appreciate it, I have more important things on my mind.”

     Molly gave the consulting detective a nervous glance. “He's not supposed to know you're alive. What about Moriarty?”

     “I think we have bigger things to worry about than one gunman,” Sherlock pointed out. “Still, Lestrade, best keep away from any windows, hmm?” He pushed past the still-gaping Lestrade into the apartment, the rest of the group slowly following suit.

     Molly lingered, smiling sympathetically at Lestrade. “I know it's a lot to take in, but just trust us, alright? We've got bigger problems than Sherlock being alive right now. I know he was your friend, so please, trust us. I'll explain everything later.”

     Lestrade hesitated, then sighed, shaking his head slightly. “What do you need?” he asked resignedly.

     “Sherlock's laptop. Is it still here?”

     The detective inspector nodded. “Mrs. Hudson asked me to come by and pick it up, along with a few other things. I didn't get the chance to move it yet.”

     Molly grinned. "Good." She led Lestrade into the apartment, where everyone was seated on the couch, crowding around Sherlock and his laptop. He quickly pulled up Saxon's website, shifting through the different parts of the site, pulling up new tabs to search online for different parts of his personal information. "Mycroft's right," he observed, "the records are rubbish. But there's nothing here Mycroft hasn't already told us."

     Jack glanced anxiously at the door . "We're not safe here," he decided. "That landlady of yours could come back any time, and I'm willing to bet the Master knows where you live."

     "The Master?" Lestrade repeated incredulously. "What are you on about? In fact, what are any of you on about?! Would someone please like to tell me what the hell's going on here?!" He turned an accusing glare on Sherlock, growling, "You selfish bastard, what the hell are you playing at? Do you have idea what your death did to John? Do you even care at all?!" His voice shook with emotion – Molly could tell John wasn't the only one who'd been just by Sherlock's death.

     Sherlock's gaze dropped to the floor at the mention of John, pain flashing in his eyes. The Doctor rose from the couch and came up to Lestrade, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Detective Inspector, I'm sorry about all this," he said softly. "We wouldn't have done this if we'd had any other choice. I promise you, you'll get your explanation, but right now we're too exposed. Is there somewhere we can hide out for a while?"

     Lestrade hesitated, but the Doctor's calm tone had diffused most of his anger. He finally sighed. "Yeah, my old house, no one's stayed there since my wife and I split up and I moved out."

     The Doctor nodded. "Thanks." Sherlock started to close the laptop, but before he could, a notice popped up that read, " _Saxon Broadcast All Channels._ " Frowning, the Doctor went to turn on the TV. Saxon immediately appeared on-screen, wearing that same smug smirk. "Our lord and master is speaking to his kingdom," the Doctor said with evident disgust.

     Saxon was saying, " _Britain, Britain, Britain. What extraordinary times we've had. Just a few years ago, this world was so small. And then they came, out of the unknown, falling from the skies. You've seen it happen._ " Clips began to play from different news reels of alien encounters as Saxon narrated, "Big Ben destroyed. A spaceship over London. All those ghosts and metal men. The Christmas star that came to kill. Time and time again, and the government told you nothing."

     Molly frowned. The alien pretending to be human was blatantly promoting the existence of aliens? What was he playing at? The Master continued, " _Well, not me. Not Harold Saxon. Because my purpose here today is to tell you this. Citizens of Great Britain, I have been contacted. A message for humanity, from beyond the stars._ "

     The companion stiffened in surprise as a floating metal sphere roughly the size of a football flit onto screen beside the Master. In a high female voice, it said, " _People of the Earth, we come in peace. We bring great gifts. We bring technology and wisdom and protection. And all we ask in return is your friendship._ "

     The Master grinned smugly. " _Ooo, sweet. And this species has identified itself. They are called the Toclafane._ "

     The Doctor looked totally baffled as the Master named the sphere. "What?"

     Saxon continued, " _And tomorrow morning, they will appear. Not in secret, but to all of you. Diplomatic relations with a new species will begin. Tomorrow, we take our place in the universe. Every man, woman and child. Every teacher and chemist and lorry driver and farmer._ " He threw a side glance at the camera as he added, " _Oh, I don't know, every detective?_ "

     The group froze. He could only be referring to Sherlock. The Doctor hurried to check behind the TV, blanching at what he saw. "Out!" he ordered sharply. Grabbing the laptop, he led his companions down the stairs and out into the street. Even as they stopped to catch their breath, there was an explosion from inside 221B Baker Street, with a great fireball smashing out the windows. Molly felt a tremor of fear as she realized how close a call that had been.

**SCENEBREAK**

     As they got their breath back, the Doctor asked weakly, "All right?"

     Jack nodded shakily. "Fine, yeah, fine," he panted.

     Sherlock and Molly just nodded silently, but Lestrade was staring wide-eyed at the smoke pooling out from the window. "Wha-what just happened?" He seemed truly and properly confused now, and the Doctor didn't blame him. There'd been a lack of actual explanations and a lot of information that didn't make sense, not to mention a very close call with an explosion.

     Suddenly, Sherlock pulled out his phone. "Sherlock? What are you doing?" the Doctor asked warily.

     The consulting detective didn't look up as he explained, "If he knows where I live, he'll know about John and Mrs. Hudson."

     "You can't call them," the Time Lord warned sharply.

     Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Obviously. I'm texting Mycroft." He waited a few moments for a reply, then relaxed slightly. "We worked out a code when we were young. Even if Saxon's reading, he won't understand, and now Mycroft'll make sure John and Mrs. Hudson are safe."

     The Doctor relaxed slightly. "Good." He glanced at Lestrade. "What about you? Any family to worry about?"

     The detective inspector still looked confused, but he shook his head and replied, "My ex-wife died in a car crash a few months back. I've got no other family."

     Satisfied, the Doctor turned to Jack. "What about your Torchwood team?"

     The captain shrugged helplessly. "I called them earlier, but they didn't answer. I'll try again." He pulled out his phone and put in the Torchwood number, but when he got an answer, he stiffened, expression hardening. He growled, "Saxon, what the hell have you done with my team?"

     The Doctor snatched the phone from Jack. "I'm here," he said quietly to the other Time Lord.

     The Master's voice purred from the phone. " _Doctor._ "

     "Master," the Doctor returned.

     The other Time Lord chuckled. " _I like it when you use my name._ "

     The Doctor shrugged. "You chose it," he reminded his old friend. "Psychiatrist's field day."

     " _As you chose yours. The man who makes people better. How sanctimonious is that?_ "

     The Doctor ignored the dig, instead saying, "So, Prime Minister, then."

     He could practically hear the Master's grin of delight. " _I know. It's good, isn't it?_ "

     Enough beating around the bush. "Who are those creatures? Because there's no such thing as the Toclafane. It's just a made up name, like the Bogeyman." Just a story, a story from Gallifrey. With the Master back, and now the Toclafane, he didn't know if he could take another reminder of the home he'd destroyed.

     The Master chuckled. " _Do you remember all those fairy tales about the Toclafane when we were kids back home?_ " He was quiet a moment, sounding much more subdued as he asked, " _Where is it, Doctor?_ "

     The Doctor swallowed, fighting back the old pain, suddenly raw as the day he'd done the deed. "Gone," he finally managed. Molly must have guessed what they were talking about, for she put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He gave her a small, grateful smile.

     " _How can Gallifrey be gone?_ " There was accusation, yes, but fear too, and pain, the same pain the Doctor shared. He remembered their childhood together, how the vast cathedral and red mountains towered over their heads, mighty and proud. Never could they have imagined so mighty a planet could be destroyed.

     "It burnt," he whispered. _Because of me,_ he added silently.

     After another pause, the Master asked almost dully, " _And the Time Lords?_ " Already trying to be numb to the pain, even as it ripped away at his hearts. The Doctor knew the feeling all too well.

     "Dead. And the Daleks, more or less." At least, he hoped. He hadn't run into Dalek Caan again, and he had no guarantee he was dead. "What happened to you?"

     " _The Time Lords only resurrected me because they knew I'd be the perfect warrior for a Time War. I was there when the Dalek Emperor took control of the Cruciform._ " His voice grew soft with child-like fear. " _I saw it. I ran. I ran so far. Made myself human so they would never find me, because I was so scared._ "

     "I know," the Doctor said gently. After all, after the war, he'd never stopped running.

     " _All of them?_ " the Master repeated, voice suddenly sharp with interest. " _But not you, which must mean –_ "

     The Doctor nodded grimly. "I was the only one who could end it. And I tried. I did. I tried everything."

     " _What did it feel like, though?_ " the Master whispered. There was a sudden hunger to his tone, an eagerness that left the Doctor chilled. " _Two almighty civilizations burning. Oh, tell me, how did that feel?_ "

     "Stop it!" the Doctor ordered sharply. This wasn't the way he'd wanted this to go, wasn't something he'd ever wanted to face.

     " _You must have been like God,_ " the Master said with relish.

     "I've been alone ever since," the Doctor admitted quietly. "But not anymore. Don't you see? All we've got is each other."

     He could hear the Master's amused chuckle. " _Are you asking me out on a date?_ "

     The Doctor ignored the jab and continued, "You could stop this right now. We could leave this planet. We can fight across the constellations, if that's what you want, but not on Earth."

     " _Too late._ "

     Desperately, the Doctor asked, "Why do you say that?"

     There was a pause, then, in a soft tone, the Master told him, " _The drumming. Can't you hear it? I thought it would stop, but it never does. Never ever stops. Inside my head, the drumming, Doctor. The constant drumming._ "

     The Doctor felt a shiver of fear. For the first time, he wondered if the Master was actually, properly insane. He felt a rush of grief for his old friend. Even after everything the Master had done, after what he was doing now, it hurt to see what had become of his old friend. Slowly, desperately, he appealed to the Master. "I could help you. Please, let me help."

     As though he hadn't heard, the other Time Lord continued, " _It's everywhere. Listen, listen, listen. Here come the drums. Here come the drums._ "

     Across the street, a man began tapping out the same rhythm the Doctor had seen earlier. _Da-da-da dum, da-da-da dum, da-da-da dum._ He froze. The drumbeat. That's what it was, the beat of the drums, the drums from the Master's mind. The realization gave him a desperate thrill of fear. "What have you done? Tell me how you've done this. What are those creatures? Tell me!"

     " _Ooo look. You're on TV,_ " the Master crooned.

     "Stop it," the Doctor growled impatiently. "Answer me."

     " _No, really. You're on telly,_ " he repeated. The Doctor whirled around to see a TV in a display window nearby showing him and his companions, under the headline, " _Nationwide Hunt for Terror Suspects._ " Sherlock was mostly hidden behind Jack and Molly, which was good since he was supposed to be dead, and Lestrade was facing away from the camera, but Molly, Jack, and the Doctor were clearly visible. " _You and your little band. Didn't you used to be a one-woman kind of Time Lord?_ "

     The Doctor paled in fear. " _You're public enemies number one, two and three, four, and ooo five, a new face. Oh, and you can tell handsome Jack that I've sent his little gang off on a wild goose chase to the Himalayas, so he won't be getting any help from them. Now, go on, off you go. Why not start by turning to the right?_ "

     He obeyed, freezing as he saw a security camera staring right at them. "He can see us," he warned the others. He held up his sonic screwdriver, deactivating the camera.

     " _Oh, you public menace. Better start running. Go on, run._ "

     "He's got control of everything," Jack growled out, glaring at the now-useless camera.

     "Doctor, what do we do?" Molly asked.

     " _Run, Doctor," the Master taunted. "Run for your life!_ "

     The Doctor gulped. "We run."

     So they ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesh, now Lestrade has joined in the fun. And since I updated early, you lucky readers might get another chapter tonight.


	45. Sound of the Drums: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and company try to figure out a plan against Harold Saxon.

     They went straight to Lestrade's old flat after that, staying there for a few hours after the incident at Baker Street. Molly sat Lestrade down and, as gently as she could, explained everything to him. The Doctor, how she'd met him, who he was and what they did, why Sherlock had faked his death, who the Master was and what he wanted. Sherlock and the Doctor cut in occasionally, to correct or embellish on a point she'd made. Honestly, Lestrade was taking the whole aliens-are-real thing surprisingly well, though the introduction of the Toclafane had probably made it slightly more believable for him.

     The detective inspector passed a hand over his face, looking weary with the whole thing. "Right. So you're saying Harold Saxon is a Time whatsit - "

     "Time Lord," the Doctor corrected automatically.

     "Right, Time Lord, same as him, an alien that looks human that wants to take over the world cause of a grudge match with your friend."

     Molly nodded. "Basically, yeah."

     Lestrade sighed. "Christ. And here I was thinking that knowing Sherlock Holmes was the craziest my life was gonna get."

     The companion laughed. "Tell me about it," she agreed. "But it's not all bad, Lestrade – "

     "Greg," he corrected.

     She grinned. "Greg, sorry. There's so much amazing stuff out there. You wouldn't believe some of the things I've seen, or the people I've met. Traveling with the Doctor... it makes you realize how wonderful life is, just watching as people live it day by day." She saw the Doctor give her a proud glance.

     Lestrade have a light chuckle. "Well, you weren't kidding about traveling at any rate. But what are we going to do about Saxon?"

     The Doctor shrugged. "Still working on that."

     Molly frowned, casting a concerned glance at the Time Lord. He'd given then a brief description of his conversation with the Master, but he didn't seem very willing to talk about it. She was getting really worried about him. The last time she'd seen him this worked up was when they'd faced the Daleks in Manhattan.

     Now was even worse. Now it wasn't an old enemy he was being faced with, but the only bit of family he had left - a family he'd been forced to kill in order to save the universe. The fact that this family came in the form of a power-hungry psychopath who'd probably spent the majority of the conversation blaming the Doctor for the destruction of Gallifrey only made it that much worse.

     She was worried about what the Master's return would do to the Doctor. He was her best friend, but she knew he had issues most psychiatrists wouldn't touch. He had a guilty conscience the size of a planet, and she got the feeling it was the work of a miracle that he'd gotten over it as much as he already had. But the return of another Time Lord, one who was perfectly willing to play mind games and throw all of the Doctor's insecurities in his face, could be seriously dangerous for his sanity. Molly could only hope that they could get this cleared up quickly, before the Master could do too much damage. And she'd be there for him every step of the way. She may only be human, not one of the Time Lords he so desperately missed, but she'd stand by his side through whatever he'll the Master decided to throw at him. He didn't have to be alone. She wouldn't let him.

     Molly was shaken from her thoughts as the front door was opened. The group stiffened, fearing the worst, but it was just Jack returning with take-away food for all of them. Molly took a bag gratefully. "Thanks. I don't think I've eaten all day."

     "No problem." As he sat by the dining room table with the rest of them, he held up his Vortex Manipulator and explained, "I've got this tuned to government wavelengths so we can follow what Saxon's doing."

     "Any news?" Sherlock asked.

     The captain shook his head. "No, and nothing about your brother or friends either. Looks like you got them out in time." Jack still seemed worried over his team – he reminded Molly of how the Doctor was about his companions.

     As they ate, Jack turned to the Doctor. "So, Doctor, who is he? How come the ancient society of Time Lords created a psychopath?"

     "And how do you know him?" Molly added.

     The Doctor sighed, his eyes gleaming with the familiar pain associated with Gallifrey and anything connected to it. "He was a friend, at first. Before it all went wrong."

     "But all the legends of Gallifrey made it sound so perfect," Jack argued. “How could they make something so twisted?”

     "Well, perfect to look at, maybe," the Doctor conceded. "And it was. It was beautiful." His tone grew wistful as he began to describe his home. "They used to call it the Shining World of the Seven Systems. And on the Continent of Wild Endeavour, in the Mountains of Solace and Solitude, there stood the Citadel of the Time Lords, the oldest and most mighty race in the universe, looking down on the galaxies below. Sworn never to interfere, only to watch." Molly could see it, a picture painted in her head, breathtakingly beautiful, but she knew it could never compare to the real thing.

     The Doctor's tone grew grim as he continued, "Children of Gallifrey, taken from their families age of eight to enter the Academy. And some say that's when it all began. When he was a child. That's when the Master saw eternity. As a novice, he was taken for initiation. He stood in front of the Untempered Schism. It's a gap in the fabric of reality through which could be seen the whole of the vortex. You stand there, eight years old, staring at the raw power of time and space, just a child. Some would be inspired, some would run away, and some would go mad." He stared off thoughtfully into space for a few moments before shuddering. "I don't know."

     "What about you?" Lestrade asked curiously.

     The Doctor was broken out of his pensive mood by the question. He gave Lestrade the familiar, goofy grin. "Oh, the ones that ran away," he revealed with a chuckle. "I never stopped."

     Before any more questions could be asked, Jack's bracelet began beeping. "Encrypted channel with files attached," Jack informed them. "Don't recognize it."

     "Patch it through to the laptop," the Doctor told him. Jack obeyed, and Sherlock opened the laptop again, pulling up the file Jack had sent over. The Torchwood logo flashed on screen, followed by a video. The Doctor hit play.

     A woman appeared on screen, seeming slightly nervous. She looked directly at the camera as she said, " _If I haven't returned to my desk by twenty two hundred, this file will be emailed to Torchwood. Which means if you're watching this, then I'm..._ " She trailed off fearfully, then shook her head. " _Anyway, the Saxon files are attached. But take a look at the Archangel document. That's when it all started. When Harry Saxon became Minister in charge of launching the Archangel Network._ "

     The Doctor's brow furrowed. "What's the Archangel Network?"

     "It's a mobile phone network," Jack explained. He pulled out his phone for the Doctor to see. "Because look, it's gone worldwide. They've got fifteen satellites in orbit. Even the other networks, they're all carried by Archangel."

     The Time Lord's eyes widened. "It's in the phones!" he realized aloud. "Oh, I said he was a hypnotist. Wait, wait, wait. Hold on." He began tapping out the rhythm from before. _Da-da-da dum, da-da-da dum, da-da-da dum._ "There it is. That rhythm, it's everywhere, ticking away in the subconscious."

     "What, like mind control?" Sherlock asked scornfully.

     "No, no, no, no, no. It's subtler than that," the Doctor assured him. "Any stronger and people would question it. But contained in that rhythm, in layers of code, Vote Saxon. Believe in me. Whispering to the world. Oh, yes! That's how he hid himself from me, because I should have sensed there was another Time Lord on Earth. I should have known way back. The signal canceled him out."

     "Any way you can stop it?" Jack asked.

     The Doctor shook his head. "Not from down here. But now we know how he's doing it."

     "And we can find a way to fight it," Molly finished with a grin.

     "Oh yes!" the Doctor agreed, grinning right back.

**SCENEBREAK**

     A few minutes later, the Doctor finished tinkering with the phone, laptop, and something else metal in his hands. He showed them to the others – five keys. Molly recognized then as TARDIS keys, her own being among them. Each were strung on a string, working like necklaces.

     "Five TARDIS keys," the Doctor told them. "Five pieces of the TARDIS, all with low level perception properties because the TARDIS is designed to blend in. Well, sort of. But now, the Archangel Network's got a second low level signal. Weld the key to the network and Molly, look at me. You can see me, yes?"

     Molly nodded. She had a vague understanding of how the perception filter worked, but it'd still be interesting to see a demonstration.

     The Doctor slipped one of the keys over his neck. "What about now?"

     Molly narrowed her eyes, trying to focus, but it was like her brain was determined not to notice him. She knew he was there, but every time she tried to look at him, her gaze slid off him like water off an umbrella. She shook her head. "It's like I know you're there, but I can't focus on you. Like I can only see you in the corner of my eye."

     The Doctor slipped the key off, and Molly was able to look at him properly again. He was grinning triumphantly. "See? It just shifts your perception a tiny little bit. Doesn't make us invisible, just unnoticed. Oh, I know what it's like. It's like, it's like when you fancy someone and they don't even know you exist. That's what it's like."

     Molly drew in a sharp breath at that description. She couldn't stop herself from from sneaking a quick glance at Sherlock, who had the decency to look slightly ashamed. The Doctor had just seemed to realize what he'd said. He grimaced as his stupid word choice, offering Molly an apologetic, "Sorry."

     She shrugged. "No problem." Eager to get the subject off her, she asked, "So, we've got a plan?"

     The Time Lord grinned. "Oh yes!" Without further explanation, he jumped to his feet, hurrying out past the front door. Lestrade looked baffled by the Doctor's lack of explanation, and Jack and Sherlock seemed a little miffed. Molly laughed at their expressions, glad for her extensive experience with the Doctor and his methods and madness. For once, she was the most knowledgeable of the group. With a laugh, she stood. "Come on." She led the others after the Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this chapter is just pathetically short, but at least you got two in one day. Plus I get the feeling that the next chapter'll make up for the shortness of the last three.
> 
> I'll try to update again soon. For now, enjoy Greg and Molly interaction and Molly and Doctor friendship adorableness.


	46. Sound of the Drums: Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and company go after Saxon.

     Saxon was supposed to be meeting the US president at the airport, so they headed over there. They all had the perception filter keys around their necks, but Molly could tell Lestrade and Sherlock were less than convinced that they were fool-proof. They seemed convinced they were going to be seen at any moment.

     Molly shot them a reassuring smile. “Just keep quiet, and they can't see you,” she reminded them in a low voice. “Trust me.”

     They watched as the US president arrived in his plane. Harold Saxon and his wife Lucy waited to greet him, saluting the President as he approached. “Mister President, sir,” he greeted the man.

     President Winters didn't seem to be in the mood for pleasantries. In a irritable growl he ordered, “Mister Saxon, the British Army will stand down. From now on, UNIT has control of this operation.”

     The Master didn't seem very flustered. He smiled pleasantly at Winters as he said, “You make it sound like an invasion.”

     “First Contact policy was decided by the Security Council in 1968,” Winters told him firmly, “and you've just gone and ignored it.”

     Saxon shrugged unconcernedly. “Well, you know what it's like. New job, all that paperwork. I think it's down the back of the settee. I did have a quick look. I found a pen, a sweet, a bus ticket and er, have you met the wife?” Lucy smiled rather fakely at the president.

     The Master's flippancy only worked to irk Winters even more. In a rather huffy tone, he warned Saxon, “Mister Saxon, I'm not sure what your game is but there are provisions at the United Nations to have you removed from office unless you are very, very careful. Is that understood? Are you taking this seriously?” Harold just grinned smugly at him, so he just rolled his eyes and moved on. “To business. We've accessed your files on these Toclafane. First Contact cannot take place on any sovereign soil. To that purpose, the aircraft carrier Valiant is en route. The rendezvous will take place there at eight am.” His eyes narrowed when he noticed that Saxon wasn't paying attention. “You're trying my patience, sir.”

     The Master's eyes narrowed, his expression becoming shrewdly calculating. “So America is completely in charge?” he asked carefully.

     “Since Britain elected an ass, yes,” Winters growled. “I'll see you onboard the Valiant.”

     “It still will be televised, though, won't it?” Saxon questioned. “Because I promised, and the whole world is watching.”

     Winters narrowed his eyes irritably. “Since it's too late to pull out, the world will be watching. Me.” With that, he turned and stormed off, leaving the Master to watch him go.

     Saxon stared after Winters with a curious tilt to his head. “The last President of America,” he mused. After a few moments, his smug smirk returned, and he turned to his wife. “We have a private plane ready and waiting. We should reach the Valiant within the hour. My darling.”

     Lucy left her security guard, but the Master lingered for a moment, turning to look in the Doctor and company's direction. Molly held her breath as Saxon's gaze passed lazily over them, then relaxed as he turned and slowly sauntered off.

     Molly let out the breath she'd been holding. “Thank God. I was sure he was going to see us.”

     Jack let out a low growl. “He's planning something with those Toclafane today. You heard him. 'The last president.'” He turned to the Doctor. “So what's the plan? How do we stop him?”

     “He's a Time Lord, which makes him my responsibility,” the Doctor warned them all. “I'm not here to kill him. I'm here to save him.”

     Molly felt a pang of sympathy for the Time Lord. From what she'd seen of the Master, there didn't seem to be much chance of saving him. But she knew the Doctor had to try, had to hope there was something left to salvage. She knew he could never give up on the last piece of Gallifrey he had left. So she gave him a reassuring smile and said, “And we'll help.”

     The Doctor shot her a grateful smile. Jack brought up an earlier point in the Master and the president's conversation. “Aircraft carrier Valiant. It's a UNIT ship at fifty eight point two north, ten point oh two east.”

     “Right, so how do we get there?” Molly asked.

     The Doctor looked thoughtfully at Jack's Vortex Manipulator. “Does that thing work as a teleport?” he asked.

     Jack nodded with a grin. “Since you revamped it, yeah.” He tapped something into the bracelet. “Coordinates set.” Everyone grabbed hold of the Vortex Manipulator, which sent them screaming through the Vortex again, until they were thrown onto the ground of the Valiant.

     Molly groaned, leaning against the nearest thing she could find, fighting the familiar nausea. “Is there any way to make that thing feel less like a bad hangover?” she grumbled.

     Jack shrugged. “I've has worse nights.” As the effects of Vortex travel wore off, he approached a nearby window, which showed nothing but sky outside. “Welcome to the Valiant.”

     Molly looked outside in surprise. “Dawn already?”

     Lestrade's eyes widened as he looked outside. “Wait, I though you meant ship, as in, sea ship. Where's the water?”

     Jack chuckled. “A ship for the twenty first century,” he explained, “protecting the skies of planet Earth.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     They were on their way to the televised broadcast when the Doctor suddenly halted, looking down a different corridor. Jack tried to get him moving again. “We've no time for sightseeing,” he reminded the Time Lord.

     “No, wait. Shush, shush, shush, shush,” he told the group. “Can't you hear it?”

     Molly and the others listened, but she could tell by their expressions they couldn't hear anything more than she could. “Hear what?” she questioned. Maybe his superior Time Lord biology was letting him hear something they couldn't.

     The Doctor didn't answer. Instead, he started off down the corridor. “This way.”

     They ran down the hallway, soon reaching a door. When the Doctor opened it, they all stiffened in surprise. The Doctor grinned brilliantly at the sight. “Oh, at last!” He was the first to approach the familiar blue box.

     Lestrade looked at it uncertainly. “Is that the time machine you were telling me about?”

     Molly nodded, grinning widely. “That's the TARDIS all right. I feel like it's been way longer.” She was truly glad to see the blue box again, for her own fondness for the sentient time machine as for the return of their form of transport.

     Jack's brow furrowed. “What's it doing on the Valiant?”

     The Doctor didn't take the time to answer as he hurried to the door, working quickly to get the lock open. He pushed the door open, but the moment Molly stepped inside, she knew something was wrong. The console room was cast in a sickly red light, and there was some sort of metal contraption surrounding the Time rotor. Molly tensed as a low, moan-like _hum_ echoed through the room. Something was really, really wrong.

     “What the hell's he done?” Jack growled angrily, staring at the contraption around the rotor.

     “Don't touch it,” the Doctor warned.

     “I'm not going to,” the captain assured him.

     The Doctor approached the Time Rotor, an unreadable expression on his face. Molly had seen him when his companions were threatened, but she knew his regard for the TARDIS was far beyond any fleeting companions. She had been there for him for over 700 years, and now someone had done this to her. Molly wasn't sure what he was going to do, but she couldn't begin to imagine the rage he must be feeling.

     “What's wrong with her?” Molly asked softly. “She sounds sick or something.”

     “It can't be,” the Doctor growled, voice breaking slightly as he looked at his TARDIS. “No, no, no, no, no, no, it can't be.”

     “What is it?” Sherlock asked.

     “He's cannibalized the TARDIS,” the Doctor whispered.

     Jack's eyes widened. “Is this what I think it is?”

     “It's a paradox machine,” the Time Lord confirmed grimly. He approached the contraption, pointing at a gauge on it. “As soon as this hits red, it activates. At this speed, it'll trigger at two minutes past eight.”

     “That's two minutes after first contact,” Sherlock realized.

     Molly frowned. “But what's it for? Is it preventing a paradox or what?”

     “More likely it's going to allow one,” the Doctor corrected.

     “More important, can you stop it?” Jack asked.

     The Doctor shook his head. “Not till I know what it's doing. Touch the wrong bit, blow up the solar system.”

     “Then we've got to get to the Master,” Molly concluded. “But how?”

     The Doctor turned around looking surprised. “Oh, I've got a way. Sorry, didn't I mention it?” He broke into a big, smug grin, which left Lestrade baffled, Sherlock and Jack annoyed, but Molly amused.

**SCENEBREAK**

     They snuck into the televised set where Winters was addressing the world, about to reveal the Toclafane for every nation to see. Under his breath, Jack hissed, “This plan, you going to tell us?”

     As Winters continued addressing the camera, the Doctor held up his TARDIS key for the group to see. “If I can get this around the Master's neck, cancel out his perception, they'll see him for real. It's just hard to go unnoticed with everyone on red alert. If they stop me you've all got a key.” They nodded to assure the Doctor they knew what to do if he failed.

     As they snuck closer to the Master, four of the Toclafane whizzed into the room. Winters announced to them, “My name is Arthur Coleman Winters, President Elect of the United States of America, and designated representative of the United Nations. I welcome you to the planet Earth and its associated moon.”

     One of the spheres spoke in a high-pitched, childish male tone. “You're not the Master,” it whined.

     Another one spoke in a female tone. “We like the Mister Master,” she said in a high, girly tone.

     “We don't like you,” the second male Toclafane added.

     Winters looked surprised at their words, but he still tried to turn things around in his favor. “I can be master, if you so wish. I will accept mastery over you, if that is God's will.”

     “Man is stupid,” the second male Toclafane taunted.

     The first male told Winters, “Master is our friend.”

     “Where's my Master, pretty please?” the female sphere simpered.

     Saxon stood, drawing all eyes to him. “Oh, all right then. It's me. Ta da!” The Toclafane all whizzed towards him, floating by his side. “Sorry, sorry, I have this effect. People just get obsessed. Is it the smile? Is it the aftershave? Is it the capacity to laugh at myself? I don't know. It's crazy.”

     “Saxon, what are you talking about?” the president demanded angrily.

     Saxon – no, the Master now, the guise of Saxon was done – smirked dangerously, making Molly shudder. The Time Lord was finally acting on his plan, and the time for waiting and hiding was over. “I'm taking control, Uncle Sam, starting with you.” He turned to his Toclafane. “Kill him.”

     The sphere-like Toclafane suddenly sprouted blade-like and gun-like appendages. Winters was blasted and sent thudding onto the ground, dead. His guards and security all drew their weapons on the Master, who just laughed in response. “Guards.” His own guards turned their weapons on the Americans, who backed down. The Master ignored them all and turned to face the camera. “Now then, peoples of the Earth. Please attend carefully.”

     Without warning, the Doctor ripped his TARDIS key off and rushed towards the Master, but before he could reach the Time Lord with the key, two guards grabbed him and pinned his arms behind his back, forcing him to his knees. The Master didn't seem all that surprised to see him. He just grinned smugly at his fellow Time Lord. “We meet at last, Doctor. Oh, ho. I love saying that.”

     “Stop it!” the Doctor demanded. “Stop it now!”

     The Master rolled his eyes. “As if a perception filter's going to work on me.” He looked pointedly at the Doctor's companions, though they still wore their TARDIS keys. “And look, it's the girlie, the freak, and the snob. Although, I'm not sure which one's which. And looks like you've made a new friend too. Do you enjoy dragging people into your fights or something?”

     Jack made a sudden break for the Master. Unconcerned, the Time Lord pulled out a screwdriver similar to the Doctor's and zapped him with it. Jack crumpled to the floor, dead. Molly hurried to his side, followed swiftly by Sherlock and Lestrade. The Master smugly showed the Doctor his screwdriver. “Laser screwdriver,” he explained. “Who'd have sonic? And the good thing is, he's not dead for long. I get to kill him again!”

     “Master, just calm down,” the Doctor begged. “Just look at what you're doing. Just stop. If you could see yourself.”

     The Master rolled his eyes, then turned back to the camera. “Oh, do excuse me. Little bit of personal business. Back in a minute.” He turned and approached the Doctor, ordering the guards, “Let him go.” They released the Doctor, who got to his feet, staring pleadingly at the Master.

     “It's that sound,” the Doctor reminded him, “the sound in your head. What if I could help?”

     The Master groaned. “Oh, how to shut him up? I know.” He held up his laser screwdriver. “Professor Lazarus, creator of a genetic manipulation device. 'Course, he had to be an idiot and get killed by his own machine, but the genius is still there. Now what if I can concentrate all that Lazarus technology into one little screwdriver? But, ooo, if I only had the Doctor's biological code. Oh, wait a minute, I do.” He opened a briefcase by his feet, pulling out the case with the Doctor's hand. “I've got his hand. And if Lazarus made himself younger, what if I reverse it? Another hundred years?”

     He pointed his screwdriver at the Doctor and activated it. The Doctor screamed as he was thrown into convulsions, skin rapidly wrinkling and hair going shock-white. Molly stiffened in horror, resisting the urge to scream as her best friend was tortured. Jack revived, distracting her for a moment. “Teleport,” he ordered her in a raspy tone, still recovering from his death.

     Molly shook her head stubbornly. “No way in hell.”

     “We can't stop him,” Jack told her dully. He took off his Vortex Manipulator and handed it to Molly. “Take Sherlock and Lestrade and get out of here.”

     Molly ignored him and went to the Doctor's side. The Master had stopped zapping him, but he was still on the ground, too weak to stand. He looked at least a hundred, old and wrinkled with little hair. Molly's heart clenched painfully at the sight. “It's alright, Doctor, I've got you,” she said as soothingly as possible.

     The Master laughed tauntingly “Ah, she's a would be doctor,” he told the camera. “But tonight, Molly Hooper, there's nothing you can do.”

     He began spouting more to the camera about the Toclafane, ordering death and destruction, but Molly wasn't paying attention anymore. All she could concentrate on was her best friend, and the idea of what the Master would do to him next.

     As the Master spoke, the Doctor suddenly leaned forward and whispered in Molly's ear. She started to protest, but in the end, she knew he was right. And she understood what was needed from her next, no matter how it broke her heart to leave him behind like this.

     She backed up slowly until she was beside Sherlock and Lestrade again. She'd strapped the Vortex Manipulator to her wrist. “Hold on, and don't ask questions,” she ordered in a low tone. Looking confused, they obeyed, and Molly activated the Manipulator, sending them through the Vortex again.

**SCENEBREAK**

     They landed on a grassy field somewhere below, the Valiant was visible in the air. Molly stared at it, trying not to feel so terribly guilty about leaving the way she had. “I'll be back,” she whispered, even though she knew the Doctor couldn't hear her.

     Lestrade asked shakily, “What are we doing? What about the Doctor and Jack? And how's he still alive, by the way?”

     Molly watched the Valiant a few moments longer, then turned away, squaring her shoulders as she stared evenly at Lestrade. “The Doctor has a plan, and he told it to me,” she told him coolly. “It's our job to see it through.”

     “What's the plan?” Sherlock demanded.

     Molly turned to him, narrowing her eyes. “I'll tell you on the way, but we have to go before we're seen.”

     The two locked gazes a moment, two wills battling each other. For as long as she'd known him, she'd always caved to Sherlock's demands, and Lestrade was a natural leader. She'd always been the submissive one, the one who walked in the shadows of others, who did what she was told and never dared to lead herself because she didn't think she could. But the Doctor was her friend, and it was his life on the line. And Molly Hooper was done being submissive. This was her mission, her area of expertise, her life, and she'd be damned before she let Sherlock Holmes or anyone else get in her way, even herself. She was leading this mission, and she wasn't afraid anymore. She wouldn't let herself be.

     After a few moments, Sherlock nodded. “Very well. Where to first?”

     Molly looked from him to Lestrade, who nodded as well. She was the leader now, and they had accepted it. She was in charge of these two people, these friends, and she could be leading them to their deaths for all she knew. But she had a plan, and for the first time, she had real, true confidence. She was either going to save the Doctor or die trying.

     With a wild half-grin, she told them, “Everywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a bit of BAMF!Molly to brighten your afternoon (or whatever time it may be for you). :D I have been waiting to write this chapter for so freaking long, and it's been far too much fun building up to this moment. I hope you've enjoyed Molly's character arc, and that you think it has believably led up to this moment. And now the companion has some companions of her own, and she's leading her troop into battle.
> 
> I will try to update again later tonight, but no promises.
> 
> I also want to announce that the amazingly fantastic Ai Emna (http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2773289/) of Fanfiction.net has begun translating this fanfic into French. FRENCH I TELL YOU! I've never had anything of mine translated before, so this is seriously exciting. If you speak French, go check it out! If not, go check it out anyway and grin uncomprehendingly at it like me! :D Here it is: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9360855/1/La-femme-qui-compta


	47. Last of the Time Lords: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year later, Molly, Sherlock, and Lestrade return to Great Britain.

      _Molly looked from him to Lestrade, who nodded as well. She was the leader now, and they had accepted it. She was in charge of these two people, these friends, and she could be leading them to their deaths for all she knew. But she had a plan, and for the first time, she had real, true confidence. She was either going to save the Doctor or die trying._

_With a wild half-grin, she told them, "Everywhere."_

      **ONE YEAR LATER**

     It was the dead of night, on a beach in Great Britain. The only sound to be heard was the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore. Wildlife had become scarce since the Toclafane had begun hunting them down, and no people in their right minds would be out at this time of night.

     Except for one. A man stood on the shore of the beach, still too far away to make out clearly. As the boat approached, the man held up a lantern, waving it to let them know it was safe to land. The woman sat near the edge of the boat, staring out at the shore beyond. It had been a long year, but soon, so soon, everything would be over.

     One way, or another.

     As the boat pulled into shallow water, she hopped out into the water, followed by the two men who'd followed her across the world. The other two men in the boat quickly rowed back into the darkness, leaving the woman and the men on the shore of a country they hadn't seen in almost a year.

     They jogged towards the shore, the woman reaching first. The man holding the lantern hurried over to meet them, grinning widely, as though Santa Clause had dropped out of the sky.

     "What's your name?" The woman asked by way of greeting.

     "Tom Milligan," he told her. "No need to ask who you are. The famous Molly Hooper, and the Hooper Army." The two men with Molly smirked at the familiar name. "How long since you were last in Britain?"

     Molly Hooper looked at the familiar country with an unreadable expression. "Exactly a year."

     "It's been a long time away from home," Greg added. Somehow, in that year, the former cop hadn't list his snarky sense of humor. It'd kept Molly from going 'round the bend more than once during that long year.

     Indeed, Molly wasn't sure she'd have made it if it had been just her and Sherlock. Now that she was in charge, Molly was far more comfortable with putting the detective in his place when he was being difficult, which had led to many heated arguments. Greg served as a great peacekeeper, cracking a sarcastic joke to lighten the mood, or smoothing over ruffled tempers. She was pretty sure if it had been just her and Sherlock, they would have torn each others' heads off long ago.

     Still, they'd come a long way since the beginning, a long year ago. Molly was more comfortable in her position as head of her little army, and a year had taught her that Sherlock and Greg would stand by her side through whatever hell the world had thrown at them. Sherlock, however difficult he might be, was extremely useful in dangerous situations, and undoubtedly loyal. A year of constantly being in his presence had cured Molly of her crush on him, allowing it to be replaced by friendship and mutual trust and respect.

     Her relationship with Greg had been much smoother. She hadn't known him terribly well before the Year, but he'd proven to be a great friend and someone she was glad to have with her during the year of hell. While Sherlock was clever and quick, Greg was solid and dependable. And then there was her, the painfully self-conscious pathologist leading an army at the end of the world. It was a strange group, perhaps, but one she was glad to have.

     "Not home yet," she said quietly in response to Greg's comment. "That's still ahead." Greg and Sherlock gave her quiet, knowing glances. They understood.

     She turned back to Tom to introduce her companions, whose names weren't as widely known. "This is Greg Lestrade and Sherlock Holmes."

     Tim's eyes widened in surprise. "As in the consulting detective? I thought he committed suicide. It was all over the papers... before."

     Sherlock just said shortly, "Don't believe everything you read."

     They started walking down the beach, working to get out of sight. "So what's the plan?" Tom asked eagerly. He wasn't that much younger than them, but Molly couldn't help but think of him as a kid. Eager and naive, ready to save the world.

     "We need to see Professor Docherty," Sherlock informed him briskly.

     "Can you get us in to see her?" Molly asked.

     Tom nodded. "She works in a repair shed, Nuclear Plant Seven. I can get you inside." He hesitated, then asked, "What's all this for? What's so important about her?"

     "Sorry kid, the less you know, the safer you are," Greg told him.

     "There's a lot of people depending on you," Tom told them a bit shyly. "You guys are a bit of a legend."

     Molly smirked. There were plenty of wild stories about her and the guys out there, and she'd heard most of them. "Really? What kind of legends?"

     "That you sailed the Atlantic, walked across America," the man told her eagerly. "That you were the only person to get out of Japan alive. Molly Hooper, they say, she's going to save the world, her and her army." He sighed, growing somber as he thought about the havoc the Master had wreaked. "Bit late for that."

     Molly felt a pang of grief as she remembered all of the destruction she'd seen in the last year. So many lives had been lost as the Toclafane cut brutally through the numbers of the human race. 1/10 of the population cut down on the first day, millions lost in the year since. Anyone who rebelled was killed without the blink of an eye, and there was no way to kill a Toclafane. There was nothing to do but obey. Japan had been the worst of it. A whole country burned to ashes.

     In all that death, there was hardly a way to keep track of all the names. But there was one that Molly knew haunted her friend, would continue to haunt him until the job was done.

      _John Watson._

     The former army doctor had refused to sit back and do nothing while people died by the thousands. He'd traveled, helping those who needed it, and eventually it had gotten him killed. The people who'd found him had said he'd been shot down defending a teenage rebel from the Toclafane. They hadn't been there when he'd died, but they'd gone and identified the body, and even through the chaos and death, they made sure he got a proper burial. It'd been hard seeing him lying dead, and Molly wasn't even that close to him. She couldn't imagine what Sherlock had gone through, seeing his best friend cold and lifeless. Molly had a feeling the only thing keeping him going was the knowledge that, in a few months time, the job would be done, and it wouldn't matter either way.

     As they came over the hill, Molly could see a medical van sitting out, waiting for them. She gave start of surprise, and Greg's eyes widened. "Can't remember the last time I rode in a car. How come you've still got one?" he asked Tom curiously.

     "Medical staff," Tom explained proudly. "Used to be in paediatrics back in the old days. But that gives me a license to travel so I can help out other the labour camps."

     Molly couldn't help but chuckle. "Great. Looks like we're traveling with a Doctor." Greg chuckled appreciatively, and she managed to win an amused smirk from Sherlock. He'd been far more subdued since John's death, so even a hint of amusement was rare from him anymore.

     As they got into the car, Tom told Molly eagerly, "Story goes that you're the only person on Earth who can kill him. That you, and you alone, can kill the Master stone dead."

     Molly sighed, trying to disguise her mixed emotions at the idea. "Just drive," she told him quietly. "We need to get going."

     If their plan didn't work, it would all be for nothing, and they'd be the one to die.

**SCENEBREAK**

     They had to ditch the car when they got closer, and were back to walking. Luckily, after a year without cars or TARDIS, they were plenty used to walking. All that running on the TARDIS had let her get used to it quicker than her companions.

     As they walked through the quarry, they came upon a huge, rock statue of the Time Lord whose name was only heard in terrified whispers. Molly glared up distastefully. "That smug bastard," she growled. "You know he's carved himself into Mount Rushmore too?"

     Greg shook his head sadly. "Those bloody things are everywhere. Every continent, every country."

     "Best to keep down," Tom warned them. As they came over a ridge, they were able to see shipyards stretching out far ahead. "Here we go. The entire south coast of England, converted into shipyards. They bring in slave labour every morning. Break up cars, houses, anything, just for the metal. Building a fleet out of scrap."

     Molly shook her head sadly. "You should see Russia."

     "Shipyard Number One," Sherlock said distastefully. "From shore to shore, rockets by the thousands being readied for war."

     "War?" Tom repeated in surprise. "With who?"

     "Everyone else," Molly told him grimly. "The rest of the universe." At Tom's evident surprise, she chuckled. "Humans like to think they're all there is, but I've been out there, in space, with a friend of mine. There's so much life out there, whole planets and civilizations, and if we don't act, the Master will do his best to wipe them all out."

     Tom's eyes widened in further surprise. "You've been in space?"

     Greg chuckled, clearly amused at the kid's obvious admiration for her. Molly knew he'd bug her about it plenty later. She fought the urge to roll her eyes and replied, "Yeah. Problem?"

     Tom shook his head quickly. "No. No, just er, wow. Anything else I should know?"

     She considered for a moment. "I met Shakespeare," she said thoughtfully. "Bit of a flirt, to be honest."

     Before Tom could say anything else, two Toclafane flew overhead. Molly, Sherlock, and Greg slowly crouched to the ground, while Tom stood and nervously faced them. "Identify, little man," one demanded in its shrill tone.

     Looking nervous, Tom held up a badge for them to see. "I've got a license. Thomas Milligan, Peripatetic Medical Squad. I'm allowed to travel. I was just checking for – "

     The Toclafane cut him off with a shrill giggle. "Soon the rockets will fly, and everyone will need medicine. You'll be so busy." The spheres zoomed off, still cackling shrilly.

     Tom turned shakily to the three travelers. "But they didn't see you," he said, looking puzzled.

     Molly smirked. "How'd you think we went around so long without getting caught?" She and her companions held up their TARDIS keys for Tom to see.

     As they walked on, Molly explained, "Remember, a year ago the Master set up Archangel, that mobile network, fifteen satellites around the planet. Really though it's transmitting a low level psychic field. That's how he hypnotized the world into thinking he was Harold Saxon."

     Tom sighed. "Saxon. Feels like years ago."

     She held up her key again. "This key kind of works the same way. It doesn't make us invisible, just unnoticed. Like something in the corner of your eye that you don't really want to see."

     The former doctor frowned. "Well, I can see you," he pointed out.

     "That's 'cause you want to," Greg told him with a smirk. Molly resisted the urge to smack him with something.

     Tom grinned. "Yeah, I suppose I did."

**SCENEBREAK**

     To get to Professor Docherty, they had to sneak into one of the shipyards. Tom used some pliers to cut through the barbed wire, allowing them to slip inside. In one of the sheds, an older woman was fiddling irritably with an old TV. "Professor Docherty?" Tom asked tentatively.

     The woman grunted. "Busy."

     "They, er, they sent word ahead. I'm Tom Milligan. This is Molly Hooper and the Hooper army."

     "She can be the Queen of Sheba for all I care," Docherty growled. "I'm still busy." She gave the TV an irritable smack.

     Molly raised an eyebrow. "TV's don't work anymore," she reminded the professor, even as Sherlock went to help her.

     Docherty sighed wistfully. "Oh God, I miss Countdown. Never been the same since Des took over. Both Deses. What's the plural for Des? Desi? Deseen? But we've been told there's going to be a transmission from the man himself." Molly stiffened. What could the Master have to say to his slaves?

     After a moment, a static black-and-white image appeared on-screen. "There!" Docherty said triumphantly. Molly felt a deep rush of anger as the Master's smug face appeared.

     " _My people,_ " the Master announced grandly. " _Salutations on this, the eve of war. Lovely woman. But I know there's all sorts of whispers down there. Stories of a child and her little friends, walking the Earth, giving you hope._ " Molly tensed. So that's what this was all for. A little message for her. She fought back the familiar anger, trying to think of the Doctor instead, and what the Master meant to him. “ _But I ask you..._ " The camera panned away from him to show a horribly familiar old man. " _How much hope has this man got?_ "

     Molly froze at the sight of him. It had been a year since she'd seen the Doctor, and having to see him like that, degraded and enslaved, weak with age, made her blood boil. Greg seemed to understand, for he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. " _Say hello, Gandalf. Except he's not that old, but he's an alien with a much greater lifespan than you stunted little apes. But what if it showed?_ "

     Molly stiffened, realizing what he was going to do a moment before he did. Her face went bone-white, fear freezing her heart.

     The Master continued, " _What if I suspend your capacity to regenerate? All nine hundred years of your life, Doctor. What if we could see them?_ " He raised his screwdriver and, just like that long year ago, zapped the Doctor, sending him into wild convulsions. The Master laughed cruelly as the Doctor screamed. " _Older and older and older. Down you go, Doctor. Down, down, down the years._ " It was horrible, but Molly forced herself to watch. She wished the Doctor knew, that he could sense her watching, and know that she was coming to save him.

     In the end, there was no Doctor in sight, just a rumpled pile of clothes. The Master cleared them away, and Molly couldn't suppress a strangled gasp. Where the Doctor had once stood was a small, wrinkled, Gollum-like creature with huge, sad eyes. Molly trembled with rage at the sight of what the Master had reduced him to, and she could feel Greg's hand give her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

     The Master grinned cruelly at the shriveled Time Lord, then turned smirk at the camera. " _Received and understood, Miss Hooper?_ "

     The transmission cut off. Molly was still trembling, the rage boiling underneath. For a year, she'd been running from country to country, keeping her head down, keeping out of trouble. And she'd have to keep at it for just a while longer. But soon, very soon, the Master would get his own back, and the Doctor, and John, and all the others who had suffered because of the Toclafane, would be avenged. She just had to be patient.

     She turned to Tom and Docherty, shoulders squared like the soldier she'd become, glaring evenly at the two. "Let's get to work," she ordered.

     There was no way she was letting the Doctor down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so here's the beginning of the end. I hope you've enjoyed your daily serving of BAMF!Molly.
> 
> And yes, I killed John Watson. Sorry about that. But on the bright side, Molly no longer has a hopeless crush on Sherlock! Sorry Sherlolly shippers.


	48. Last of the Time Lords: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly, Sherlock, and Greg follow Tom to Professor Docherty.

     "Obviously the Archangel Network would seem to be the Master's greatest weakness," Docherty told the group. "Fifteen satellites all around the Earth, still transmitting. That's why there's so little resistance. It's broadcasting a telepathic signal that keeps people scared."

     "We could just take them out," Tom suggested eagerly.

     Docherty gave him a withering glare. "We could. Fifteen ground to air missiles. You got any on you? Besides, any military action, the Toclafane descend."

     Molly shook her head. "They're not really called the Toclafane," she told them. "That's just a name the Master stole."

     "Then what are they, then?" Docherty grumbled.

     "That's why we're here," Sherlock told her. "We need to know our enemy, and we figure you can help."

     Greg took out the CD from his rugged brown jacket. He wore a dark T-shirt underneath, while Molly was in a black leather jacket and black pants. Sherlock was the only one whose look hadn't changed. He was as attached to this coat and scarf as the Doctor was to his coat and pinstripes. He handed the disc to Docherty, explaining, "The Toclafane can't be hurt by guns, blades, bombs, whatever. Basically invincible, which is why there hasn't been much in the way of uprisings. There's literally no way to fight them. And no one's been able to look at one up close."

     "Except once," Molly continued. "Just once, in South Africa, lightning brought one down by chance. The readings are on the disc."

     Docherty took the disc and popped it into her computer, giving it an angry whack as it struggled to read the CD. "Oh, whoever thought we'd miss Bill Gates."

     "So is that why you traveled the world?" Tom asked curiously. "To find a disc?"

     Molly shook her head. "No, that was just luck."

     "I heard stories that you walked the Earth to find a way to build a weapon," Docherty said in a low voice. Molly stiffened, sharing a furtive glance with Greg and Sherlock. The readings popped up on-screen. "There! A current of fifty eight point five kiloamperes transferred charge of five hundred and ten megajoules precisely."

     "Can you recreate that?" Tom asked.

     Docherty nodded. "I think so. Easily. Yes."

     Molly grinned. "Right then. Lets go catch us a sphere."

**SCENEBREAK**

     As the rest of them lied in wait, Tom went out and shot a gun in view of one of a Toclafane. They could hear the shots, and the whizzing of the Toclafance.

     "Here it comes," Molly breathed. "Ready?"

     Docherty let out an impatient growl. "You do your job, I'll do mine!" She had a machine set up to generate the same amount of electricity that had brought down the Toclafane in South Africa. If it didn't work, they were toast.

     Tom ran in, a Toclafane zooming in after him. “Now!” he shouted at them.

     Docherty started up her machine, sending electricity sparking across the narrow arch. Tom was clear through already, but the Toclafane got caught in the current. It trembled with the power of the electricity surging through it, then it dropped to the ground like a dead weight.

     The professor switched off the machine, and the group hurried over to the fallen Toclafane. The sphere sat there, completely unresponsive. Greg and Molly shared a triumphant grin, but Docherty cut them off with a glare. “That's only half the job,” she reminded them. “Let's find out what's inside.”

     The three travelers had to work together to lift the Toclafane and carry it inside, setting it heavily on the workshop table. Docherty and Sherlock immediately set to work getting it open. “There's some sort of magnetic clamp,” Docherty muttered. “Hold on, I'll just trip the - “

     She was cut off as the metal of the Toclafane's shell slid back, revealing a wrinkled, wizened head. Molly jumped slightly as it blinked it's shriveled eyes opened, staring around at the people in the room. Docherty let out a strangled gasp. “It's alive,” she breathed.

     The creature's eyes widened as it noticed Molly. “Molly!” it cried delightedly. “Molly Hooper!”

     Molly froze. She'd planned out everything, from the year's start to end, but this wasn't something she'd anticipated. Tom looked at her with wide eyes. “It knows you.”

     “Sweet, kind Molly Hooper,” the creature chirped. “You helped us to fly.”

     Greg's brow furrowed. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

     “You led us to salvation,” it continued.

     “Who are you?” Molly demanded.

     “You were right,” it said softly. “There's nothing worse than traveling alone.”

     In the grim year since she'd last seen the Doctor, Molly had prided herself on becoming rather unflappable. With all she'd seen in time and space, and on the Earth the Master had ravaged, there wasn't much depravity left to surprise her. But now, she jerked back with a gasp, staring at the Toclafane in horror. “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no, it can't be, you can't be him!”

     “We share each other's memories,” the horrible, twisted creature cheerfully informed her. “You sent him to Utopia.”

     Sherlock's eyes widened at the familiar name, and even Greg understood at this point, though he had not been there himself. He'd heard enough from his two companions to understand what was happening. “Wait, are we saying they're...?” Molly could barely collect herself enough to nod. With everything she'd seen, every low she'd seen the Master reach, she had not expected this, even from him.

     Tom looked from one traveler to the other, unnerved by their obvious distress. “What's it talking about? What's it mean?”

     “What are they?” Docherty added.

     Molly couldn't find the words to explain yet. Tom looked more scared now. “Molly. Molly, tell us. What are they?”

     She had to swallow a few times before she could get the words out. “They're us,” she whispered. “The Toclafane are the human race, billions and billions of years in the future. This is what the Master has made us.”

     Molly shook her head, fighting back the tears that had suddenly sprung up. “I should've seen it coming. The Doctor, that friend of mine, he has this time machine, and the Master took it. Before he did, the Doctor locked the coordinates so it could only travel back and forth between here and the end of the universe. He must have followed the human race to Utopia and brought them back as soldiers. His soldiers against humanity.” She felt sick at the thought. “Utopia was humanity's last hope to escape, when everyone else had died. A legend of a place of hope and sanctuary.”

     “There was no solution, no diamonds,” the Toclafane informed her. “Just the dark and the cold. But then the Master came with his wonderful time machine to bring us back home.”

     “But that's a paradox,” Docherty breathed, staring at the creature with total disgust and horror. “If you're the future of the human race, and you've come back to murder your ancestors, you should cancel yourselves out. You shouldn't exist.”

     Sherlock's eyes widened. “Ah, and that's the paradox machine,” he breathed. “Allowing the future of the human race to murder their ancestors without consequence. Brilliant.”

     He was doing his eerily sociopathic praise of sociopaths again, but it'd been a long time since Sherlock had seemed interested like this, so Molly let it slide.

     “But what about us?” Tom asked shakily. “We're the same species. Why do you kill so many of us?”

     The Toclafane let out a eerie giggle. “Because it's fun,” it giggled. Repulsed, Tom shot the thing in the face. Molly was struck by a memory of another terrifying man saying the exact same thing, and had to repress a shudder. One James Moriarty was bad enough, but a whole race of them? This had to end.

**SCENEBREAK**

     After they disposed of the Toclafane, Docherty turned roughly to Molly. “I think it's time we had the truth, Miss Hooper.” she growled. “The legend says you've traveled the world to find a way of killing the Master. Tell us, is it true?”

     Molly hesitated, sharing a quick glance with Greg and Sherlock, then nodded decisively. Time to tell her. She turned to Docherty and told her quietly, “Before I escaped, the Doctor told me his plan. See, he and the Master, they're both Time Lords, and they've both been coming to Earth for years, time and time again, and they've been noticed. Torchwood, UNIT, there's so many out there who've been working out ways to protect Earth from rogue Time Lords, and now they've figured out a way.”

     Greg opened up the case he'd been carrying, revealing the gun, with the three compartments. Tom looked at it with wide eyes, picking it up with a grin. “All you need to do is get close. I can shoot the Master dead with this.”

     Docherty warily eyed his handling of the weapon. “Actually, you can put that down now, thank you very much.” Tom frowned, but obeyed, setting the weapon down.

     “The point is that you can't just kill a Time Lord, at least not easily,” Sherlock told them. “They have an ability called Regeneration. When they're killed, their cells rebuild themselves. They can literally bring themselves back to life.”

     “Ah, the Master's immortal,” Docherty deadpanned. “Wonderful.”

     “Not quite,” Molly corrected. “Torchwood developed this,” she gestured to the gun, “before the election. All you need is this gun and four chemicals. Cancels out a Time Lord's regeneration, kills him permanently.”

     “Four chemicals?” Tom repeated, looking puzzled. “You've only got three.”

     “That's why we're here,” Greg told him. “To find the last one. They were scattered all over, see, to keep 'em safe. San Diego, Beijing, Budapest, and now London. That's why we've been traveling, to find them so we can stop the Master for good.”

     “So where is it?” Tom asked.

     “An old UNIT base in northern London,” Sherlock said. “We have the coordinates.”

     “Can you get us there, Tom?” Molly asked. The former doctor nodded automatically.

**SCENEBREAK**

     “We can't get across London in the dark,” Tom told them, “It's full of wild dogs. We'll get eaten alive. We can wait till the morning, then go with the medical convoy.”

     “You can spend the night here, if you like,” Docherty offered.

     Molly forced herself to keep a straight face as she said, “No thanks.”

     “We can get halfway, stay at the slave quarters in Bexley,” Tom assured her. “Professor, thank you.”

     As they started to leave, the professor pulled Molly aside. She stared searchingly into the woman's eyes. “Molly, could you do it?” she asked seriously. “Could you actually kill him?”

     Molly stared evenly back. “I'll do what I have to,” she told the other woman coolly.

     Docherty narrowed her eyes. “You might be many things, but you don't look like a killer to me.” Molly shrugged and pushed past her, following her companions and Tom into the night.

**SCENEBREAK**

     They traveled several hours before they finally reached the slave headquarters in the ruins of the city. They let the travelers in eagerly, staring with wide, hopeful eyes at the famous Molly Hooper and her Army, the trio destined to save the world, to save them all from this miserable hell. Molly felt a pang of guilt at each dirty, miserable, empty face that stared up at her. Somehow, she had to make this right.

     Molly settled in, Sherlock and Greg at her side, with the entire slave headquarters sitting and eagerly watching. She took a deep breath, and like so many times before, plunged in to tell the familiar story. “The stories are true. Me, Sherlock, and Greg have traveled the world, from the ruins of New York, the smoldering ashes of Japan, right across the radiation pits of Europe. The world's gone to hell, and everywhere we went, we found people like you, huddled, scared masses, living as slaves on their own planet. But if Molly Hooper and her Army is the legend, that's not how it should be, because we don't matter. We aren't the ones who'll save you. Because there is a man. The one who sent us out here, who told us to walk the Earth, who told us how to defeat the Master.”

     “How to describe him? He's... he's like fire. And ice. And rage.” She grinned fondly at the memory of him, of the friend who'd saved her from her own self-loathing two years ago. “He's like the night, and the storm in the heart of the sun.” The listening people drank in every word, listening like children to the tale of this fairy tale man, this dark hero waiting to save them. “He is ancient and forever. He burns at the center of time and can see the turn of the universe.” She fingered the miniature fob watch around her neck, remembering the man who had gave it to her and why. Remembering the time she'd kept a Time Lord safe for three straight months without any help or guidance. All the times she'd done great things, she, Molly Hooper, and she'd do it again now. She would save these people, and the Doctor too. “And... he's wonderful.”

     “He has saved your lives time and time again, and never been acknowledged, never seeked any fame or recognition, because he doesn't think he deserves it. But he does, because he's about to save you again.” Molly was cut off by a sharp rap on the door. Everyone tensed as one, staring with terror at the front door. They started to panic.

     “It's him! It's the Master!”

     “But he never comes to Earth!”

     “Hide them!”

     “Use this!” Someone pulled out a blanket, and started to cover the travelers with it.

     From outside, Molly could hear the Master's taunting call. “Molly. Molly Hooper. I can see you! Out you come, little girl, you and your schoolyard friends. Come and meet your master.” A pause. “Anybody? Nobody? No? Nothing? Positions. I'll give the order unless you surrender. Ask yourself. What would the Doctor do?”

     Molly looked from Greg to Sherlock, then nodded, letting them know it was time. The end had come. As one, they took off their TARDIS keys and pushed past the panicked crowd, heading outside. The slowly lifted their hands, staring coolly at the Master.

     The Master grinned delightedly. “Oh, yes. Oh, very well done. Good girl. He trained you well.” He turned his laser screwdriver suddenly on Greg. “Bag. Give me the bag.” Greg took a step toward him. “No, stay there. Just throw it.”

     Glaring hatefully at the Master, Greg obeyed, kicking the bag towards the Master. The Time Lord zapped the bag, destroying the weapon. He grinned brightly, a cruel mockery of the Doctor's familiar expression, then turned to Molly. “And now, good companion, your work is done.” Almost lazily, he lifted his screwdriver and pointed it at Molly.”

     A cry came from the slave headquarters. “No!” Tom rushed out to defend them. Before Molly could scream at him to go back, the Master turned and shot him. Molly watched as the kid crumpled to the ground, dead. There had been too much death, and she'd become far too used to it. No more.

     The Master turned to her, thoughtful. “But you, when you die, the Doctor should be witness, hmm? Almost dawn, Molly, and planet Earth marches to war.” His guards grabbed her and her companions, and shoved them along.

     One way or another, this ended now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun! So, this episode is nearly done. I hope you guys like where I take it.
> 
> Oh, and I hope you guys liked me sneaking in that quote from Family of Blood. Since Tim wasn't in my version of things, this quote never got said in my story, which I thought was a shame, since it's a brilliant quote and a great description of the Doctor. So I snuck it in, and I think it fits.
> 
> You lucky people, getting three chapters today. Tomorrow's where it all ends, though. I get the feeling the next chapter will be uber-long, so there's some consolation I guess.


	49. Last of the Time Lords: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly, Sherlock, and Greg are brought onboard the Valiant.

     “Citizens of Earth, rejoice and observe,” the Master announced grandly. The camera was back, and the Time Lord was once again addressing his adoring masses as the guards pulled Molly, Greg, and Sherlock into the room. The shrunken Doctor hung in a cage at one end of the room, and Jack was held by restraints. Molly could barely look at him. He looked like he's been through nine kinds of hell and back since she'd left him there, but he still spared her a quick grin, typical Jack.

     The Master turned to her, holding out his hand expectantly. “Your teleport device, in case you thought I'd forgotten.” Molly unstrapped the Vortex Manipulator and tossed it at him, glaring as she did. It felt strange not to have the familiar weight on her arm.

     The Time Lord grinned cruelly, lifting his laser screwdriver again. “And now, kneel,” he ordered with relish. Molly felt anger burn through her, but she had no choice. She nodded discreetly, the signal for Greg and Sherlock to do as he said. The three travelers all knelt, heads bowed, not meeting the Master's eyes. He smirked successfully. “Down below, the fleet is ready to launch. Two hundred thousand ships set to burn across the universe. Are we ready?”

     As he confirmed his ships were ready, Molly snuck a quick glance at the Doctor. He was gripping the bars of his cage, staring at her with wide, sad eyes. She knew in her leather and her stance she looked like the soldier she'd had to become, and it seemed like the Doctor was already blaming himself. She gave him a quick smile to reassure him, then looked down again.

     The Master was still going on. “At zero, to mark this day, the child Molly Hooper, and her little friends, will die. My first blood. Any last words?” Molly bit her lip to keep from saying anything. “No? Such a disappointment, this one. Days of old, Doctor, you had companions who could absorb the time vortex.” She stiffened as the Doctor flinched at the mention of Rose. “This one's useless. Bow your head. And so it falls to me, as Master of all, to establish from this day, a new order of Time Lords. From this day forward - “

     Molly couldn't keep it in anymore. For a year she'd scoured the Earth with two trusted friends, working tirelessly to do the Doctor's work, everything according to the overall plan, and now the pieces were all falling into place, and the Master was blathering on, convinced he had won. It was too much. She began laughing, softly at first, then louder as she saw the Master's irked expression. She lifted her head, Greg and Sherlock following suit, as she really, truly laughed for the first time in what felt like ages.

     The Master was infuriated. “What?” he demanded, but Molly was too caught up in her laughter to answer. “What's so funny?”

     As her laughter subsided, she smirked at the angry little man who had no idea he'd just lost. “Really, Master?” she asked tauntingly. “A gun?”

     “A gun with four magical chemicals to kill a Time Lord?” Sherlock added tauntingly.

     The Master's brow furrowed in confusion. “And? What about it?”

     Greg rolled his eyes. “God, you're thick. You actually bought that? I thought you were supposed to be a genius or something.”

     “What do you mean?” the Master demanded roughly.

     Molly just smirked tauntingly as the Doctor rasped from his cage, “As if I would ask them to kill.”

     The Master looked unsure for a moment, then he shook it off. “Oh well, it doesn't matter. I've got your precious companions exactly where I want them.”

     Molly shook her head, still smirking. “We're here because we want to be, oh mighty Master. We knew about Docherty's son and that she'd turn us over, so we used it. Now the puzzle pieces are falling into place, Time Lord. You brought us here at just the right time to lay in the last piece.”

     The Master was starting to get angry. “Oh, but you're still going to die,” he growled, lifting his laser screwdriver at her.

     “Don't you want to know first?” Sherlock asked tauntingly.

     He paused. “Know what?”

     “Why.” Greg said simply. “Why we risked our necks running all over the world.”

     “We've established it wasn't because of some gun,” Molly reminded him mockingly. “Don't you want to know the real reason?”

     The Master tensed. “Tell me,” he demanded. Molly suppressed the urge to laugh again. The poor man still thought he could give the orders.

     “There were never any weapons or schemes or nefarious deeds,” she told him. “Just a story. The Doctor's story, and I told it to the world, just like he told me to. I told them, and they told others, and now, and this moment, every man, woman, and child knows of the Doctor and what he's done to save them, time and time again.”

     The Master smirked, more confident now. “Faith and hope? Is that all?”

     “No, because we gave them instructions,” Sherlock added.

     “We told them how to save the Doctor,” Greg added.

     Slowly, deliberately, Molly stood, followed by her two friends, grinning fully as she threw the words in the Master's face. “We told them a date and a time,” she told him with relish, enjoying the look of confusion on the Time Lord's face. “At the same time, everyone down on the Earth, all of those humans you've terrorized, they're all going to think of a word. One word, the same word, all at once. And at that time – ”

     “Nothing will happen!” the Master cut her off hastily. He was starting to look very uneasy, but he still tried to cover it up by sneering, “Is that your weapon? Prayer?”

     Molly smirked. “If you like. Prayer, and fifteen satellites.”

     The sneer dropped right from the Master's face. “What?” he asked blankly.

     “One word, just one word, echoing in the mind of every human,” Molly repeated with a grin, “with the power of fifteen satellites.”

     “The Archangel Network,” Jack added, speaking for the first time.

     “The telepathic field _you_ created,” Sherlock reminded him.

     “The human race, taking their minds back as one, using your own little party trick against you,” Greg taunted.

     Molly stepped back beside them, grabbing a hand from each and holding on as they all glared defiantly at the Master. “The entire human race, their minds blaring out one word, amplified by the satellites, at the same time. And the word of the day – Doctor.”

     It was time. She could feel it in her mind, the Archangel Network, the strain of a million minds, shouting out as one, one word in a million different voices. Out loud, she added hers to the mix. “Doctor,” she said, staring defiantly at the Master as she did. “Doctor.” All grinning at the Master, the other prisoners joined in, chanting the name as one.

     The Master looked properly panicked now. “Stop it. No, no, no, no, you don't.” He raised his screwdriver threateningly at them, but they kept chanting, and it was too late. Molly wasn't sure, but she thought she even saw the Master's wife whisper “Doctor,” under her breath.

     “I've had a whole year to tune myself into the psychic network and integrate with its matrices. The one thing you can't do,” the Doctor told him gravely from his cage. “Stop them thinking.” He had begun to glow, the cage springing open to release him. He floated out, bathed in a bright, warm glow. In a matter of moments, the old, shriveled creature youthened, once again becoming the man Molly had known for a year. He was still suspended in air, held up by the glow of a million minds. “Tell me the human race is degenerate now, when they can do this.”

     The Master's eyes bugged in terror. “No!” he cried shrilly. He shot at the Doctor with his screwdriver, but the energy around him made it bounce off harmlessly.

     “I'm sorry,” the Doctor said softly. “I'm so sorry.”

     “Then I'll kill them!” the Master cried wildly. He turned his laser screwdriver on Molly, Sherlock, and Greg, but the Doctor merely waved a hand, the energy sending the screwdriver flying out of the Time Lord's hand. The Master began to back up, shouting furiously, “You can't do this. You can't do it. It's not fair!”

     “And you know what happens now. You wouldn't listen, because you know what I'm going to say,” the Doctor said gently, drawing closer, even as the Master back up against a wall, slumping down in fear. He screamed in protest, but the Doctor lowered to the ground, the energy disappearing, as he pulled the Master into a hug. “I forgive you,” he whispered.

     Molly watched the display of mercy quietly. She'd been a soldier for one very long year, and she'd seen the devastation the Master had caused. Millions of lives destroyed, the rest forced into slavery and misery, and the Earth torched and scarred by the Toclafane. So much death and destruction. She'd hated the Master for so long, hated him for all the deaths, all the ruined lives, all the destruction, John, the Doctor, Jack, Tom, everyone who had suffered, she had blamed and hated him. Now, seeing the Doctor forgive him, and knowing that was the end, it was hard. That year had given her plenty of reason to hate the Master, and the bitterness to fuel that hate. But she knew what the Master meant to the Doctor, so she kept silent. It wasn't her choice to make.

     “My children,” the Master whispered. Molly stiffened. The Toclafane were still out there.

     The Doctor turned gravely to Jack. “Captain, the paradox machine.” Jack nodded, then raced off to the corridor where the TARDIS waited.

     Molly didn't notice the Master had the Vortex Manipulator until it was too late. “No!” the Doctor cried. He managed to grab hold of the Master before both of them vanished.

     After he was gone, she forced herself to collect her thoughts, turning her glare on the Master's guards. They quaked under the glare of the famous Molly Hooper, the woman who'd saved the world with one word. “This ship is ours now,” she told them firmly. “Got it?” After a few moments, they all nodded. “Good.”

     Greg looked anxiously at her. “Where did they go?”

     “I'm not sure,” she admitted, “but there's no way for the Master to win.”

     “He's still got them,” Sherlock pointed out, looking outside the windows. Molly blanched as she realized what he meant. Billions upon billions of Toclafane, all zooming towards the Valiant.

     Molly shook her head defiantly. “Jack'll destroy the Paradox Machine, and they'll be gone,” she reminded them. She stepped back to join Sherlock and Greg, gripping their hands tightly. “Thanks for everything,” she told them quietly.

     “Always, Molly Hooper,” Greg told her somberly. Sherlock said nothing, just giving her hand a tight squeeze. They waited for the inevitable, hardly noticing the Master and the Doctor's return, then blinked in surprise as the Toclafane vanished, blinking out of existence. Molly grinned, but before they could rejoice, the ship gave a massive shudder, feeling almost like the TARDIS in flight. Molly was thrown back into the Doctor's arms, and everyone else tumbled to the ground.

     “Everyone get down!” the Doctor warned. “Time is reversing!” They held on desperately, Molly and the Doctor crouching together as the winds ripped around them, the ship quaking fiercely as time rewrote itself.

     Finally, it stopped. Molly got to her feet and headed immediately for a window. She grinned as she saw Earth as it should be, not what the Master had made it. “We did it,” she said quietly.

     “The paradox is broken,” the Doctor announced. “We've reverted back, one year and one day. Two minutes past eight in the morning. Just after the President was killed, but just before the spheres arrived. Everything back to normal. Planet Earth restored. None of it happened. The rockets, the terror. It never was.”

     “What about the Toclafane?” Sherlock asked.

     “Trapped at the end of the universe,” the Doctor told him. Molly frowned, feeling a pang of guilt for her part in what the human race became in the end. Still, maybe it was for the best. Everything had to end sometime. The human race had its end just like any other, and they had another 500 trillion years to cherish between now and then.

     “How come we can remember, then?” Greg asked curiously.

     The Doctor grinned. “We're at the eye of the storm. The only ones who'll ever know.”

     While they were talking, the Master had tried to make a break for it. He ran for the door, but Jack had just gotten there, and was blocking his way with a smirk. “Whoa, big fella! You don't want to miss the party.” He grabbed the Master by the arm, then turned to one of the guards. “Cuffs.” They were provided, and while he handcuffed the Master, he asked the others, “So, what do we do with this one?”

     “He's too dangerous to keep locked up,” Sherlock said.

     Molly kept silent. She wanted the Master dead and much as the rest of them, but that wasn't how it worked, and she knew the Doctor would never approve. He glared at the others. “We're not killing him, if that's what you're all thinking.”

     “So what then?” the Master asked tauntingly. “The noble Doctor, with all your rules and morals. What punishment can you possibly carry through?”

     The Doctor looked at his fellow Time Lord with such deep sadness, and desperation. “You're my responsibility from now on. The only Time Lord left in existence.”

     “Yeah, but you can't trust him,” Jack argued.

     The Doctor shook his head. “No. The only safe place for him is the TARDIS.”

     The Master blanched. “You mean you're just going to keep me?”

     The Time Lord nodded. “Mmm. If that's what I have to do. It's time to change. Maybe I've been wandering for too long. Now I've got someone to care for.” Molly had seen the Doctor shriveled in a cage, but the way he looked at the Master now, she'd never seen him look so ancient. The Master was bad for the Doctor, she knew that. Keeping him around would destroy him. But it was his choice, and she knew he could never let the other Time Lord go.

     Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, and the Master reeled back, falling out the Doctor's arms. Molly looked up in surprise to see Lucy, the Master's wife, holding a gun in her shaking hands. Jack hurried right to her, ordering, “Put it down!” He took the gun from her, leading her away. Molly had thought the woman had been in league with the Master, but maybe there was more to that story than she'd first seen.

     The Doctor was holding wounded Master gently in his arms. “There you go. I've got you. I've got you,” he said softly.

     The Master gave a rueful grimace. “Always the women,” he rasped.

     “I didn't see her,” the Doctor apologized.

     The Master gave a snort of amusement. “Dying in your arms. Happy now?”

     “You're not dying,” the Time Lord said quickly. “Don't be stupid. It's only a bullet. Just regenerate.”

     The Master grinned. He leaned forward slightly, the little he could manage, and whispered, “No.”

     The Doctor began to look panicked. “One little bullet. Come on.”

     The Master gave a weak chuckle. “I guess you don't know me so well. I refuse.”

     Tears fell from the Doctor's eyes. “Regenerate. Just regenerate. Please. Please! Just regenerate. Come on.” Molly hated how desperate he looked, like his world was burning in front of his eyes all over again.

     “And spend the rest of my life imprisoned with you?” the Master asked ruefully.

     “You've got to,” the Doctor whispered, his voice breaking. Molly had never heard him beg like this before. It broke her heart as she watched him cradling his fallen enemy, the last piece of hope he'd had left. “Come on. It can't end like this. You and me, all the things we've done. Axons. Remember the Axons? And the Daleks. We're the only two left. There's no one else. Regenerate!”

     The Master gave a small, triumphant grin. “How about that. I win.” Then it faded, and the Master became like a small, scared child. “Will it stop, Doctor? The drumming. Will it stop?” He stiffened, then lay unresponsive in the Doctor's arms, dead forever. Molly could hardly believe it. Their enemy, gone because of pride, just like that.

     But it wasn't the Master she was thinking about after his last moments. It was the living Time Lord, staring at the Master's body like his world had just fallen apart, burned to ashes again, all because of him. “No!” He cried desperately, but it was too late. The Master was dead. He clutched the body closer, sobbing with abandon, looking more desperate and vulnerable than Molly had ever seen him, more scared and panicked than the time the sun had possessed him. He looked like the child now, lost and alone, both hearts broken. Molly knew that no one, no human or any other creature, could ever make up for the loss of this last Time Lord, but she couldn't sit back and do nothing while her friend wailed in agony. She stepped up to him, crouching beside him and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. She didn't say anything, didn't offer any empty promises of how it was all going to be okay, didn't try to distract him from his grief. This wasn't about her, but he didn't have to be alone. Sherlock, Jack, and even Greg, who hadn't known the Doctor for long, came to join her, offering comfort to the Time Lord in the only way they could.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The Master's funeral was a somber affair. The Doctor wasn't crying, not anymore, but the blank, emotionless expression was almost worse. The Master's body was on a pile of logs, burning. Apparently, it was an old Gallifreyan tradition, and a Time Lord's body was far too dangerous to leave lying around. She stood beside the Doctor, gripping his hand tightly, as the Time Lord burned before them.

     When it was over, she noticed Sherlock slip to the side and pick something up off the ground by the pyre. She saw the slight glint of metal – a ring maybe? - but didn't question Sherlock as he pocketed it. Instead, she, Sherlock, Greg, and Jack all silently followed the true Last of the Time Lords as he turned and strode back to his TARDIS.

     There was still something they needed to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAIT! HALT! CEASE! DESIST!
> 
> Now that I have your attention, I will announce that this is not quite the end. There will be an interlude, wrapping things up. You didn't think I was going to end this without letting Molly say her goodbyes, did you?
> 
> Now as for the actual chapter, yikes, that's some heavy stuff. I started tearing up writing it, just remembering that scene with the Master dying and the Doctor begging him to regenerate. You know, we credit Moffat with all the sad stuff, but Russel T. Davies wrote some pretty depressing stuff.
> 
> And yes, for those observant folks, Sherlock indeed pocketed the ring that was supposed to later bring the Master back to life, and I will say now that he had figured out that it is important, though he doesn't know why, and he is planning on tossing it into the nearest black hole. So the Doctor has been saved from the return of the Master and the other Time Lords.
> 
> I just want to say in advance, thank you all so much for reading and reviewing my story, and for following it through to the very end. It's sad it has to end, but you guys have all been great, and I'm glad so many people have enjoyed this story.


	50. Interlude Five: Allons-y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly says her goodbyes.

     They were on a street in London, watching as people walked by, going on with their lives, completely unaware that they'd just gone through a year of hell. “It's weird,” Molly said quietly. “So many of these people were dead a few hours ago, and now they're back, with no idea. And they all knew you, Doctor. For once, they all knew what you did for them. Now they've forgotten.”

     “Good,” the Doctor said. He gave her a tired grin, which she returned. Molly knew he'd never take credit for what he'd done, but at least he was smiling again. He, Jack, Greg, Sherlock, and Molly were all standing by the railing together, just watching as life went on, because of them.

     They were silent for a few moments, then Jack pushed away from the railing. “Back to work.” He started off towards the Torchwood building.

     “I really don't mind, though,” the Doctor told him. Jack looked back, and the Doctor gestured towards the TARDIS with a smile. “Come with me.”

     Jack shook his head slightly, still smiling. “I had plenty of time to think that past year,” he told the Doctor, ”the Year That Never Was, and I kept thinking about that team of mine. Like you said, Doctor, responsibility.”

     The Doctor grinned. “Defending the Earth. Can't argue with that.” He held out a hand for the captain to shake, but when Jack gave it to him, he pulled his sleeve back and exposed the Vortex Manipulator, sonicing it.

     “Hey, I need that,” Jack protested.

     “I can't have you walking around with a time traveling teleport,” the Doctor said firmly. “You could go anywhere, twice. The second time to apologize.” He disabled the teleport, then gave Jack his arm back.

     “And what about me?” Jack asked anxiously. “Can you fix that? Will I ever be able to die?”

     The Doctor shook his head with a grin. “Nothing I can do. You're an impossible thing, Jack.”

     Jack chuckled. “Been called that before.” He straightened, squaring his shoulders, saluting to each of them in turn. “Sir. Sir, sir. Ma'am.” Molly grinned, giving a little salute back. He started off, then turned around, asking the Doctor, “But I keep wondering. What about aging? Because I can't die but I keep getting older. The odd little grey hair, you know? What happens if I live for a million years?”

     The Doctor chuckled. “I really don't know.”

     Jack laughed. “Okay, vanity. Sorry. Yeah, can't help it. Used to be a poster boy when I was a kid living on the Boeshane Peninsula. Tiny little place. I was the first one ever to be signed up for the Time Agency.” Molly grinned at the idea of Jack being some far-off town's darling. He continued, “They were so proud of me. The Face of Boe, they called me.”

     Molly and the Doctor stared at him, their expressions slowly fading into ones of shock. Jack grinned. “I'll see you.” He turned and headed off, oblivious to Molly and the Doctor's obvious shock. Molly couldn't get it through her head. _“The Face of Boe, they called me. The Face of Boe._ ” Memories of a huge, wrinkled, telepathic head flashed in her head. It couldn't be.

     The Doctor shook his head. “No.”

     “There's no way, it can't be,” Molly agreed.

     Sherlock and Greg stared at them uncomprehendingly. “What are you on about?” Greg asked. She'd told them a lot about her travels during the past year, that simply hadn't been one of the stories she'd told.

     The Doctor and Molly ignored them. “No. Definitely not. No. No.” The Doctor and Molly shared a look, then burst out laughing, completely ignoring the increasingly disturbed Greg and Sherlock. All Molly could think was that the charming, handsome Jack Harkness would one day become a giant, wrinkled head. After a year of hell, it was good to see the more pleasant surprises the universe had to offer.

**SCENEBREAK**

     As the four of them re-entered the TARDIS, the Doctor hurried over to the console. “Right then, off we go. The open road. There is a burst of starfire right now over the coast of Meta Sigmafolio. Oh, the sky is like oil on water. Fancy a look? Greg can come too, if you want, and I'm assuming Sherlock's still on board. Or back in time. We could, I don't know, Charles the Second? Henry the Eighth. I know. What about Agatha Christie? I'd love to meet Agatha Christie. I bet she's brilliant.” He trailed off as he realized Molly wasn't saying anything. He sighed. “You're not staying, are you?”

     Molly hesitated. It felt so strange standing in the familiar TARDIS after a year on a devastated Earth. Everything seemed so different, so off. The TARDIS was the safest place she knew, and she hadn't felt properly safe in a year. It was a weird feeling.

     She sighed. “I've been thinking about it a lot, Doctor,” she said softly.

     He held up a hand. “It's fine, I get it. And I promise, Sherlock can stay on even if you leave. Though I can't promise we won't tear each others' heads off.”

     “Hear me out,” Molly insisted. Looking unhappy, the Doctor fell silent, listening. She gulped, then continued, “Like I said, I've been thinking about it a lot, Doctor. Jack's right, there was a lot of time to think, and certainly plenty of things to think about. It's been a crazy life with you, Doctor. But it's changed me for the better in so many ways. I didn't have any confidence when you met me. I thought I was worthless. Then you showed up in your blue box and offered me the stars, and you let me help save the world, over and over again. You helped me figure out that I'm worth something, that I can save the world all on my own.”

     The Doctor smiled sadly. “You don't need the TARDIS anymore,” he realized. “Molly Hooper, the Woman Who Walked the Earth. You can do anything. You don't need me anymore.”

     “I don't,” Molly agreed. “But that doesn't mean I'm leaving.”

     The Doctor blinked at her. All he could manage was a blank, “What?”

     Molly couldn't help but grin at the Doctor's puzzlement. “No, I don't need the TARDIS,” she clarified. “I could go off on Earth and do anything I want, better from my travels. But I _like_ this life, life on the TARDIS, seeing the universe, saving people. I want to stay, Doctor. I don't have to, but I want to.” She stood before the Time Lord, shoulders squared, the soldier he'd created for the Year That Never Was, ready to become his partner fighting crime again.

     The Doctor blinked rapidly in surprise, a wide grin slowly spreading over his face. “Molly Hooper. I'd love for you to stay.” Molly broke out into a grin, and ran right into the Doctor's arms for a tight hug. Greg and Sherlock watched silently, letting Molly make her choice. Molly held on tight, realizing just how much she'd missed the Time Lord.

     Finally, she pulled back, looking over her shoulder at Greg. “You want to come?” she asked.

     Greg gave a sad little smile. “Sorry, but if I disappear, Moriarty's men'll get suspicious. I've got to stay for now. But I might take you up on that later.”

     She left the Time Lord's side and headed up to Greg, pulling him into a quick hug. She was really going to miss him – he'd become a great friend during the Year That Never Was, and maybe, maybe there was a hint of something more. But she'd see him again. She was sure of it this time.

     Molly pulled back, grinning at him. “See you around, Greg.”

     He grinned back. “Same, Molly. Thanks for making me part of the Hooper Army.” With that, he turned and headed out the door, leaving Sherlock, Molly and the Doctor on the TARDIS.

     She caught the Doctor staring at her with an unreadable expression. The last year had been tough on him, and she knew he always expected people to leave eventually. The fact that she'd decided to stay had clearly gotten to him. She let him have his moment, then turned back to the console with a grin, hopping up and starting up the flight sequence. “Come on, lazy. Time get to get going.”

     She shot the Doctor a manic, knowing grin. “Allons-y!”

**THE END - TO BE CONTINUED**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..........
> 
> .....
> 
> Oh come on? Didn't anyone see it coming? Anyone? Anyone at all?
> 
> For the record, to those people I talked about ending the story with - go back through what I said. Did I at any point distinctly say that Molly was leaving the TARDIS? I said she was saying her goodbyes, and she did - to Jack and Greg. And the story *is* ending, but I never said there wouldn't be a sequel, did I? I'm sorry, I've been having fun with this. Sorry for making you think it was over. But yay, sequel!
> 
> Right, so, sequel. Yes, there will be a sequel, with Molly continuing to be his companion through Season Four, with awesomeness with Donna and non-canon-ness and canon-ness and all that fun stuff you had in this story. I don't have everything planned out yet, but I have a rough idea of what I want to do.
> 
> For the record, I don't think Martha made the wrong decision to leave. It was the best decision for herself, and she had to get some space and let herself get over the Doctor. Molly decided to stay because she wanted to. Again, Martha and Molly are very different characters, and they need different things.
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for following me to this point, and I hope you're all on board for the sequel. Speaking of which, I've got the sequel planned, all expect for one thing - a title. Any suggestions?


End file.
